


Child Protective Services

by Whatisthiswhatamidoing



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Allison Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Allison and Luther are BFFs ONLY, Ben Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Bullying, Child Protective Services, Concerned Adults, Descriptions of child abuse, Diego Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Diego Hargreeves is Bad at Feelings, Diego POV, Drug Abuse, Emetophobia, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Foster Care, Gen, Group Homes, I did no research for this, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Luther Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Luther needs help, No Incest, Number Five | The Boy Needs A Hug, Physical Abuse, Protective Diego Hargreeves, Protective Number Five | The Boy, Stuttering Diego Hargreeves, Underage Drinking, Vanya Hargreeves Needs A Hug, and he sure did better than canon pogo, and in this au they one day get it, he tries, pogo redemption?, the kids get taken away from hargreeves, they all need help
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:08:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 61,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23258173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whatisthiswhatamidoing/pseuds/Whatisthiswhatamidoing
Summary: They had just gotten back from their very first mission when a very nice lady knocked on their door. what else were they supposed to do other than invite her in and answer her questions about their tattoos and training and how their dad treats them?orSomeone tattles to the CPS about how the Hargreeves are treated, so they pay a visit.
Relationships: Ben Hargreeves & Diego Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves, Diego Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves, Diego Hargreeves & The Hargreeves, Diego Hargreeves & Vanya Hargreeves, Number Five | The Boy & Allison & Ben & Diego & Klaus & Luther & Vanya, The Hargreeves & Dr. Pogo (Umbrella Academy)
Comments: 533
Kudos: 1559





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've definitely heard this fic idea bounced around before but I've never seen it written?? so who better to do it than myself?

_Hello, child protective services, how may I help you?_

_Hello, I… I'm calling about the children who attend The Umbrella Academy._

_The Umbrella Academy, sir?_

_Yes, I have… information, as to how Dr Hargreeves treats his children behind doors._

_How does he treat them?_

_He... abuses them, I suppose. They are tortured in horrible ways under the guise of training their powers, and despite what he may say in interviews, his children’s wellbeing is the furthest thing from his mind._

_Can you give me some evidence to back up what you're saying?_

_All you have to do is visit the Academy and talk to the children to know that there is something seriously wrong. They don’t have names, only numbers, and they have been forced to kill._

_...Alright. That is definitely worth investigating, we’ll send an agent over to talk to the children. When is the best time?_

_Tomorrow, after the bank robbery._

_What bank robbery?_

_Thank you for listening to me._

* * *

They had just gotten back from their very first mission, and they were all riding the high of victory. Two knew that the others were disappointed that dad ushered them into the car too fast for anyone to interview them, but he was a little glad. He didn’t want the humiliation of stuttering on live tv, especially when he still felt cool for yelling ‘real men throw knives,’ without stuttering. Six was quiet, but nobody wanted to comfort him because he was covered in blood, and that was pretty gross. He was getting it all on the leather seats.

Dad had to handle something when they got back. “I have to clean up your mess,” he had said, rather ominously, but Two was easily distracted with trying to one up his brother when he started boasting about how hard he threw that guy out of the window.

Six wanted to take a shower, but Pogo told them that they needed to stay to do their mission briefing, whatever that was. Two hoped that Pogo would let Six take a bath soon, his sniffling was making him sad, and he wanted to keep feeling cool.

Turns out a mission briefing was just going over what happened during the mission, as well as any reports on whatever injuries they got. One was pleased to say, there was none. Pogo checked something off of his clipboard, and then calmly looked up as someone knocked the door, even though it made them all jump.

They looked at each other, disbelieving smiles wide on their faces. As if this day couldn’t get any better! They _never_ had visitors before, and they waited in anticipation as the person knocked on the door again.

Someone was supposed to open the door for them, right? That was how they did it on tv. Looking around, Pogo was already leaving, and Two realised that mom was probably on the other side of the building, making them dinner, so Two would have to step up and be a good son and open the door for her. Especially since One looked like he was considering to open it himself.

“I–I’ll get it!” he declared, with barely a stutter, running to the door before anyone else interested in opening it could catch him. It took a few tries, since he didn’t use the door enough to know how to jimmy the lock open, but once he did, he was faced with a tall woman also in a suit, sporting a friendly smile, and Two couldn’t help but smile back, even though mom told him not to talk to strangers.

“Hello,” the tall woman said. “Do you know where your father is? I need to speak to him.” He could feel his siblings had already moved from the centre of the room to the walls around the door, hiding from the new person, but still close enough to eavesdrop. Two made himself a little bigger, because he knew that some of their faces were peeking past the door frame and he wanted to give his siblings more room to hide. The nice woman might be a robber in disguise who wanted to get revenge on them.

“He’s, H–he’s d–deal–dealing–”

“He’s busy,” Three piped up, moving a little past the door frame and leaning against his back, gaining confidence. Two was very pleased that he was the new team protector, and One wan’t. He was doing great today. Three continued. “And you can’t talk to him, ‘cause he’s busy.”

The new person didn’t seem to mind that Three had repeated herself–a habit she got from having to sustain her rumours–she just blinked a bit, and smiled again.

“That’s alright, I just want to ask you a few questions.”

“Okay.”

A pause. The others were definitely visible now, staring curiously at the new stranger. It was strange to talk to new people. Aside from his nannies that he didn’t really remember, he never talked to strangers before. It was scary, but also kind of fun.

“...Can I come inside?”

Two blinked and looked at the rest of his siblings. None of their faces revealed any answers, not even One’s and he was supposed to be the one to make decisions. Hesitantly, he looked behind them where Pogo used to be. He was hiding as well, but Two could just make him out in the shadows. They made eye contact and Pogo nodded, so Two took that as permission to let her in.

He stepped back, almost tripping over Five and Three in the process, both letting out sounds of protest.

What were people supposed to do once they invited someone inside? He couldn’t remember, but Three seemed to know, actually taking the tall lady’s hand and guiding her into the living room, delighted to be talking to someone new. They all trailed behind them, unwilling to let her be alone with a stranger

She was yammering about couches and how uncomfortable they were and stuff that didn’t really make sense, but the tall lady listened to her dutifully as if what she was saying actually mattered, instead of snapping at her to shut up, like Dad did.

“Wow, you have an… interesting home, don’t you?”

Three nodded, sitting her down on the most comfortable couch they had. “Dad’s lived here for a _long_ time, so he’s collected all sorts of stuff. He traveled a lot.”

“Give me a second.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a little square object, pressing a red button.

“What's that?” Three asked, as they all leaned in for a closer look. It didn’t look _that_ cool, not compared to the stuff that dad had in his lab, but it was certainly new.

“It’s an audio recorder, I’m using it to record our conversation.”

“Why?” Five snapped, glaring at her.

She seemed to take it in stride, simply smiling patiently instead of getting all flustered like some nannies used to do. She was probably used to kids like Five. “So I can listen to it later when I need to remember something from our conversation. Don’t you ever wish you could do that?”

Not really, since he lived with everyone he knew, all he had to do was ask them what he forgot, but One was nodding and so was Three. Five crossed his arms dubiously, and didn’t say anything else.

“So, you said your father traveled a lot?

“Yeah.” Three answered

“Is that what your father is doing now? ” She had a very nice voice, soft and slightly stern, but not mean, like dad’s stern voice was. It was a bit like mom’s, but somehow more...real.

“I don’t think so? He just told us that he was gonna clean up our mess, and then he left.”

“Does he leave you home alone a lot?” The woman asked, her voice gentle, and Three was so caught up in the joy of being a host like on tv, that she actually took a deep breath to tell them about mom and Pogo, before Five kicked her in the calf, and One answered for her.

“Not really, he doesn’t travel a lot, now. He’s just going to be gone for a few hours.”

“How old are you?”

“Eleven.” Five stated proudly, he was very happy about entering double digits.

The lady _hmm_ ed. “That’s too young to be left alone.”

“You don’t need to worry, cause _I_ look after them.” One pointed a proud thumb at his chest. 

“So–so do I!” he piped up, blushing a little at his stutter, but she didn’t seem to mind.

The lady smiled, but it seemed a little strained this time, before she jumped a little, as if she’d been electrocuted. “Oh! I'm sorry, where are my manners? My name is Carol, what are yours?”

They looked at each other. They didn’t have names, what were they supposed to say?

“Uh, we..” Three started, “we don’t have names.”

“Oh?” The smile slipped off her face a bit, before coming back a little weaker. “Well– you must have something that people call you.”

One nodded. “Everyone calls us by our numbers. I'm One and that’s Two, and she’s Three–”

“I'm Five.” He cut in.

“Yeah, and…” he looked around the room, but Four and Six was nowhere in sight. “Where did Four and Six go?”

“Six is Prob– is prob– is probably–”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. I don't know where Four could have gone off to, though.” Five interrupted him, and Two resisted the urge to deflate. It would be nice to finish a sentence for once.

Carol stared at them, with a solemn expression in her eyes, like she heard bad news that was exactly what she’d expected it to be, but she was still disappointed.

“...I can go get them?” Three offered.

“I–yes, it would be good to have all of you children here,” Carol wasn’t smiling anymore, and Two missed it.

“All of us? So should I get Seven as well?”

“There’s seven of you?” Carol looked up, “Why weren't they at the bank?”

“Cuz she’s not special.” One and Two both nodded, and Five just crossed his arms.

“Special?”

“She doesn't have powers, like us,” Five teleported from one side of the couch to the other, only overshooting a little bit, which he no doubt would boast about once Carol left.

Carol looked a bit shaken, as if she didn’t see them use their powers on tv, unless they didn’t film it? That was unfair, Two had made some _really_ good throws.

“Right, powers, of course, you have powers, how could I forget?” Carol smiled, shakily, but it made Two feel a little better anyway. She rubbed her forehead, and turned to look at his sister.

“...Three, darling, why don’t you get your siblings? I need to ask you all some questions.”

She nodded and ran off, but once she was gone Five crossed his arms, glaring at the lady suspiciously. “You’ve already been asking us a lot of questions. Why? What do you want from us?”

She smiled. “Nothing, I just want to make sure you’re safe.”

“We have powers, we can protect ourselves.” One flexed to prove his point, but he had seemed to have forgotten that his strength didn’t manifest itself in his muscles, or whatever dad told him that one sparring session, so he just looked like a normal kid flexing.

“You’re children, you shouldn’t have to protect yourselves, or other people. You parents are supposed to protect you.”

“He does!” One nearly yelled, and Two and Five rolled their eyes, readying themselves for a rant they had heard many times before. “He takes care of us, he made sure we were strong enough before we fought those guys at the bank, and he feeds us when we’re good, he gave us a place to live and sleep and the tattoos are so it’s easier to identify us, and–”

“Shut _up,_ One, we get it.”

“He doesn’t– _training?_ What’s–” Carol took a deep breath, and she was suddenly calm again. “Tattoos?”

Two, feeling tired of being left out, stepped forwards and showed her his tattoo. A little umbrella with his number printed in the middle of the umbrella, neatly surrounded by a circle, stared at her innocently.

One showed them his tattoo as well, and after a little while, so did Five. Carol stared at them with the solemn expression again. “Are those real tattoos? They all… have your numbers?”

“Yeah, so he doesn’t mix us up.”

“Don’t be stupid, One, he did it ‘cause we belong to him. We’re his things.”

“Sev–seven doesn’t… be–bel–ong?”

Five blinked, tilting his head thoughtfully. “I don’t know. I think he just forgot about her.”

Two nodded, that made sense. Carol gently touched his wrist, fingers barely brushing his tattoo. “Who did this to you? We need to revoke their tattoo licence immediately.” They all shrugged. They had just been directed into the entrance room and the man and his chair and his buzzing needled was suddenly there. Two shuddered at the memory, trying to ignore the phantom pain of how much it burned.

She shook her head sadly. “And your training?”

“For our powers, or just to make us better at fighting. It depends.”

“Can you elaborate?”

One nodded, eager to please. “My power is super strength, so he makes me pick up really heavy stuff. One time I picked up a whole car!” One paused, clearly intending to leave it at that, but Carol waited patiently, encouraging smile on her face, and that was enough to make One murmur, “but… but my body hurt so bad afterwards, that I couldn’t get out of bed.”

Two remembered that. He had to feed One soup. He opened his mouth to talk about _his_ training, but Five beat him to it, not having the patience to wait for Two to stutter his way through the explanation. “Two’s powers are kinda lame, but he has two of them, so I guess that makes up for it. Dad makes him throw knives at us, and if he can’t hit the target behind us, then he has to train his other powers. He was to stay in a water tank for _days_ , until he passes out.”

Two held back a shudder at the memory, but still, he corrected Five on a detail he missed. “I–I didn’t just thr–throw knives a–around you, D-dad ma–made m–me, ma–ma–made m–m–m” he gritted his teeth, trying to picture the words in his mind fast enough before one of them took over for him. He saw Five sigh in the corner of his vision, and open his mouth to talk over him but Carol put a hand on his arm, shaking her head.

“Let your brother finish what he has to say, how would you like it if your siblings interrupted you all the time?”

Five didn’t say anything, but he did cross his arms and let Two finish. He decided that he liked Carol.

“H–he m–makes me, th–throw knives at p–pe–people he brings. Some–sometimes they d–d–die.”

“They... _die?”_

Two nodded and she stared at him with that same solemn expression, but Five spoke up, glad that it was finally his turn. “Dad just makes me teleport to different places, most of the time if I do too much it makes me throw up.”

The others weren’t here to talk about their training, so Two nudged One, urging him to tell her.

“Uh, oh, yeah, Three rumours people to do stuff like make the back of their head explode. She says that dad says that it’s not really training her powers, and more trying to finding the limits. Four’s powers are useless, he just sees dead people, but he’s _super_ scared of them, so dad puts him in a mausoleum to make him get over it. I think dad just makes Six kill stuff? Like rabbits, I think. But he always comes back from training all bloody.”

Carol blinked, and opened her mouth to say something when Three suddenly barged into the room.

“I'm back!” She yelled, towing Seven in one hand and Four in another, who was holding Six’s hand, even though he was still bloody.

“I thought Six was going to have a bath?”

“I was _trying_ to get him to have one!” Four cried. “But he just spaced out, and I couldn’t bring him back, and I didn’t think he could take a bath on his own, ‘cause he was just standing there staring like Two does sometimes, but I didn’t want to give him one myself, so–”

“ _Okay,_ Four, we get it.”

“Oh dear god,” Carol whispered. “Where did all that blood come from?”

“The Horror did that, not Six.” Three said.

“The Horror is his power. It’s basically an octopus that lives inside his belly. It kills the bad guys we round up.” Five told her, and Carol sighed, putting her head in her hands and taking a deep breath.

“...Alright. Okay.” She looked back up, and stood up, brushing out her suit. “Thank you for telling me all that, you were very brave. I'm going to leave now, but I'm coming back later, alright? And with Six…” she stared at him with a pained expression. “Try to be quiet and calm, I'm sure he’ll come back, but in the meantime, why don’t you try to wash the blood off of him?”

“That’s what I've been doing!” Four yelled, “but I don’t wanna see him naked!” 

“you don't have to do that! how about you help him wash the blood off himself, and he can change out of his clothes when he's feeling more like himself, okay?"

Four seemed to think about it, and nodded. Carol nodded back, picking up her audio recorder and looking at it sadly. She made her way into the entrance room again, and they all trailed behind her, most of them confused, but some of them sad to see her leave. She opened the door and looked through it for a while, before looking back at them. “I’ll be back, just pack up your things in the meantime, okay?”

She closed the door, and they all stared at where she used to be in confusion. Pack up their things? What did she mean? Were they moving?

A slow rhythmic thump brought their attention to Pogo, who was slowly making his way to them, his cane tapping on the porcelain floor.

“I see our guest has left?”

They nodded.

“I suppose you’re wondering what all that was about.” They all nodded again, but Seven especially. She must be really confused, she wasn’t even there when Carol knocked on the door like Four and Six was.

Pogo nodded, looking terribly sad, and Two felt the strange urge to give him a hug, but Dad said that weakness like that was for babies, so he held back. “That woman… was from an agency. An agency that protects children in danger.”

One blinked. “But we’re not in danger.”

“Trust me when I say you are, One. I denied it for so many years, but it’s clear that if this continues one or more of you will die.”

They stared, stunned. Silent in the face of that information. “Bu–b–but. We have p–powers.” he said, but even to himself he sounded weak and scared. He hated feeling scared. Three held his hand, and so did Four, and he was tempted to shake them off until he realised that Three was sniffling, and Four was shaking.

Pogo looked at him, and he looked so terrifically old, his dark eyes drinking them in as if it would be the last time he would ever see them. “You are still children, and even with your powers, you are still vulnerable. You don’t deserve anything that your father put you through and it’s unforgivable that it took me this long in the first place.”

“You… called them?” One sounded small, nothing like the big leader dad trained him to be.

Pogo closed his eyes, and nodded. “They will take you away from the academy. I don’t know where but it will be safe. Away from your father.”

“No.” One whispered, shaking his head. “No! No no no no no no!!” One screamed, and they all scrambled out of the way, Four having to pull Six out of the way because he _still wasn’t coming back–why was this happening–the day had started out so perfectly–why was everything changing?? He just wanted everything to go back to normal–he hated Carol–this was all her fault–_

“Master One, Master One!” Pogo walked forwards, closer to One who had broken the porcelain floor just by slamming his fists on it. Usually Two would be teasing him for acting so childish, for having a tantrum just like a little toddler, but all he could feel was confusion and pure _sadness._

“One.” Pogo murmured, moving to stand in front of their brother, who had stopped breaking the floor and was just sobbing, so hard that body jolted with the force of it. Pogo kneeled down, even though it obviously hurt his knees, and he pulled One into a tight, tight hug, one that only a chimpanzee could give.

One clinged back, just as hard. Pogo rocked him, and Two desperately wanted to be hugged by Pogo as well, just for long enough so that all the horrible unfamiliar feelings would go away and everything was right again. “You cannot imagine how– _incredibly_ difficult this decision was for me to make, so it must be even harder for you who has no choice but to go through with it.”

One sobbed, and Three let go of his hand and started inching closer, and closer, until she was hugging him. The others followed her, until there was only him and Four and Six left. With a guilty glance back, he moved towards the group, joining in on the hug, and maybe shedding a few tears himself.

“I don’t want– I don't wanna leave– why did you have to do that, Pogo, wh–y–y.” One sobbed out, asking the question they all had in their heads. Pogo held them tighter.

“You know why, One, although perhaps you don’t understand. I promise you, I _promise_ you, you will understand one day, and you will be grateful, because I truly believe that this is the best for you.”

Nothing more was said after that, and eventually, they all managed to regain control of their tears, except for Four, who was still crying into Six’s shoulder. Six looked like he was coming back a bit, he was crying as well.

Pogo let go of them all, and stood up with a grunt, moving towards Four and Six and hugging them both, which was gross, because Six was still bloody, though he guessed the blood was dry by now. He murmured something into Six’s ear, and even received a little nod from him, before wiping the tears off of Four’s cheeks and turning back to the group.

“You need to pack up your things, now. Clothes, things that are important to you, but not so much that you can’t carry them.” They all nodded miserably, even One.

Pogo’s lips thinned slightly, and he continued, “you should say goodbye to your mother as well. I don’t know when you’re going to see her again, but don’t tell her that you’re leaving. Reginald programmed her to prevent that happening.”

Two didn’t even wait for Pogo to finish. He rushed away, running all up all the stairs and into Mom’s kitchen, launching through the door and giving her the tightest hug he’d ever given anyone before in his whole life.

“My, my! What’s all this about then, silly?” Two shook his head, hiding his tears in her blouse. He tried and failed to bite back a sob when mom abandoned what she was doing, and turned around to wrap cool arms around him, and he knew that he wasn’t supposed to tell her what was going on, she would stop them and ruin all of Pogo’s hard work, but another part of him _knew,_ knew deep inside his bones that wouldn’t happen. She was their _mom,_ robot or no, and if a chimpanzee could decide what was best for them, then so could a robot.

“W–we–we–e”

Mom stroked his hair. “Take your time,” she hummed, “imagine the word in your mind.”

“We’re– we’re leaving.” Mom froze.

“Leaving?”

He nodded into her chest, not daring to look at her, “Pogo thinks it would be best. He thinks we’re not safe here.”

“Not safe.” Mom murmured, staring off at the wall over his head. “Not safe, no this place is not safe. The children receive physical and emotional harm and a human mother would attempt to take her children out of the environment.” Her voice had gotten more and more flat as she talked, sounding more and more like the robot the others always claimed she was.

“Mom?” he asked, hesitantly, still hiding in her blouse. Had he messed it up for everyone? What if Pogo was right and one of them _did_ die and it would be all his fault? “Mom?” he tried again, finally looking up at her. Her face was twitching slightly, her arms tightening and loosening periodically, as if she was fighting some hidden battle. Then, suddenly, she stopped, smiling down at him and becoming his mom again.

“Well, if you’re leaving, I should give you your birthday present now!”

“We have birthday presents?”

“Mmhm!” Mom let go of him, and reached into her pocket, and Two sagged a little, disappointed. The present couldn’t be _that_ good if she could fit one for all seven of them in her pocket. His disappointment only increased when she brought out a little folded slip of paper.

“Th–this is our b–b–birthday present?”

Mom smiled. “I know, it may not look like much, but it’s the biggest thing I can give you. You don’t have to open it on your birthday, but open it with your siblings, please?”

He looked at it. The paper looked old and worn, and he could see the imprint of words on one side. She had obviously carried it for a long time.

Two swallowed. “I promise.”

Mom smiled and pulled him in a hug again, and this time he felt a little better, because even if mom was going on the fritz and had given him a grocery list, it was still from her, for them to have once they were gone, so that made it special.

Too soon, mom pushed him back. “You should probably start packing, Two, you don’t want to be late.”

He nodded, and just to stretch out this moment a little longer, he said, “I knew it, I kn–knew that you would–wouldn’t tell. I–I knew it.”

Mom nodded and kissed his forehead. He wiped away any residual tears and forced himself to leave. Closing the door behind him so he wouldn’t run back in and never, ever leave. He could hear her turning back to the meal, humming as if nothing had happened, as if she wasn’t making seven dishes for nobody.

In a blur, he packed up his bags, meeting with his siblings and appreciating the sight of Six with no blood on him anymore, and looking reasonably alert, though he was clinging to Four like a lifeline.

Carol came back, along with a few police cars, which made Two a little happier, but not by much. He sat in the front with Four and Six sitting in the back, ignoring the police lady telling him what all the buttons on her car did in favour of staring at the little slip of paper.

It taunted him, daring him to open it.

Biting his lip, he looked into the back seat to see Six and Four conked out, and the police lady finally realised that no one was listening. It was quiet.

Just a peek. Just a peek and he wouldn’t look at it again. Hesitantly, he unfolded it, planning to glance at it only for a few seconds, but as soon as he realised what he was looking at, he stared, dumbfounded.

1\. ~~Everette Liam~~ Luther

2\. ~~Alfred~~ Diego

3\. ~~Betty~~ Allison ~~Audrey~~

4\. Klaus ~~Jack~~

5\. ~~Alexander Gabriel Theo~~

6\. Benjamin

7\. ~~Abigail~~ Vanya

It was a list, he realised, a list of… names? Mom was planning to give them names? She wanted to make them people? He swallowed thickly when he realised that mom never got enough time to decide on a name for Five. It was really happening, they were really leaving, and it was likely that they were never coming back. Nothing would ever be the same again.

A sob punched its way out of him, and he didn't bother to hold it back anymore. Dad wasn’t here.

The police lady kept glancing at him awkwardly, obviously not used to crying children in her cool car, so Diego quietened himself to only sniffling. Diego… yeah, that felt right. Diego. Looking back at the list he could agree that the other’s names fit as well, and could also agree that none of Five’s names worked as well as the others. It wasn’t quite… _Five._

Maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing that they were leaving. He didn’t know what real kid’s lives are like, but he was pretty sure that they weren’t forced to murder people, and he didn’t like seeing his siblings sad, and he saw them sad in the academy a lot.

With his siblings and his name, then he was sure that they could deal with anything life threw at them.

Together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I miiiiight write a sequel about what homes they end up in and if they get separated or end up in bad homes oh no–


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One doesn't want to be taken away from his dad, Carol is stressed, and Seven has ran out of pills...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oof this chap did not like me. hopefully the next one will be easier.
> 
> buckle up folks, a lot happens in this chapter

One didn’t understand what was going on. The ground was miles away from his seat, but at the same time his skin was trying to peel itself off his body, the slightest brush somehow _hurt,_ and there were a lot of people touching him. Seven, clinging to him out of uncertainty, Carol, saying something to him that he couldn’t comprehend, not when her voice sounded like it was underwater. He was glad for it, though, because he was so so so _angry_ at her for barging into their lives and ruining everything, that if she tried to infect him with more of her poison, then he doesn’t think he would be able to hold back hurting her. And that was bad, because Pogo had explicitly told them not to use their powers around other people while they were away.

She had stopped talking, and there were hands brushing his shoulders, his sibling’s shoulders, ushering them to move inside of a small police car. How were they all going to fit? Wait– the policemen were moving the others away? Where? 

“Wait, where are the others going? I want to go with them!” He cried. How was he supposed to protect them if he wasn’t with them? He started, towards where Three was being helped inside a car all on her own, but a large, heavy hand landed on his shoulder and he froze, thinking for a second that it was dad, dad had finally come to get them, and everything would be alright–

“Slow down, Son, you aren’t being separated. We just don’t have a big enough car for all of you.” A kind, low pitched voice spoke, and he held back tears. Why wasn’t dad here? 

“We could–” Seven spoke up for the first time since Carol arrived. “We could all squeeze in.”

The man chuckled, and One looked up to see what the man keeping them captive looked like. Dark skin with an old, wrinkled face. He reminded One of Pogo. “That’s against the law, I'm afraid. There aren't enough seatbelts for you all.”

“Seat Belts?” Five asked. The smile on the man’s face dimmed a little.

“Why don’t you all climb in, and I'll tell you what to do.” Five and Seven looked at him, expecting him to somehow know what to do when all he wanted was to rush back inside and never ever leave the academy again. 

The man seemed to sense his hesitation. “The sooner we leave, the sooner you’ll get to see your siblings again,” he offered, “they’ll be waiting for you.” One nodded, shakily. Right, it would all be fine, he just had to get together with the others and then he would decide what to do.

The man’s smile came back, and he opened the door for Seven, holding his hands up placatingly when given a suspicious glare from Five.

He climbed in the front seat, and tried not to cry as the academy grew smaller and smaller into the distance. He had to be strong for the others, it would be what dad wanted him to do.

* * *

Carol sighed and massaged her temples as she slumped in her office chair. She had been a social worker for a good long while, had seen some awful shit. She didn’t like to compare her cases, because there wasn’t really a scale of bad to worse, just different shades of horrifying, but she would say that the Hargreeves case was one of the few that left her feeling truly shaken afterwards. 

She remembered distantly when the forty-three were first born. She was one of the few who’d first thought wasn’t ‘ _how is this even possible?’_ or _‘what does this even mean for our understanding of science?’_ it was instead, _‘those poor mothers. I hope them and their children will end up alright.’_ It was a tired sort of empathy reaching out to them, as well as the knowledge that she could very well meet one of them in one of her cases.

But _god_ she never expected this. What kind of _asshole_ didn’t even bother to name his children? She was glad that the police had him in custody now, but she knew realistically, that there was no way it would last. The man was richer than any human had a right to be. The absolute best she could hope for was the evidence of abuse being too stacked up against the man for even money to fight against, and his custody of the children would be revoked.

The children… Her heart squeezed a little as she thought about them. The horrible things they told her with bright smiles on their faces, too young and sheltered to even understand what was done to them was wrong. Since Number– she couldn’t call them that, she just couldn’t. Since Three had to seperate from her brothers and sister and ride in the police car alone, she had accompanied her, foregoing her car for the moment. She was quiet, reserved, and she had every right to be, as her life just turned upside down without any sort of warning. Carol was prepared for this, and just wanted to sit with her so she wouldn’t feel so alone, but to her surprise, Three did eventually talk to her. 

She had tried to keep the conversation away from any reminders of her abuse, asking her about her favourite colours, or what toys she liked to play with, and was it nice to spend time with her sister in a house full of boys?

The answers were, apparently, purple, not pink because that reminded her of red, which reminded her of blood. She wasn’t allowed toys but she liked to rumour her siblings to do funny things, and seven was useless, ordinary, so she wasn’t worth playing with, or really acknowledging at all.

She liked to play dress up with her brother Four, though, but it mainly consisted of swapping uniforms since they didn't have any other clothes. 

It was clear that these children weren’t even given a mockery of a normal childhood. They were brought up to be child soldiers, plain and simple. She bet they weren’t even given a proper education, and _god_ how were they supposed to transition into mainstream school? Would they have to be homeschooled to catch up? Who would even be willing to take in seven abused super powered children who needed their full attention to ever grow up into slightly functioning adults?

She heaved a heavy sigh. This was the thing she hated most about her job. Separating the siblings. It did nothing but heap on more trauma onto the children, tearing away their only constant in the world and throwing them at strangers. She tried her best, kept kids in group homes longer than average to find a house that could provide for them, wasn’t abusive, _and_ was willing to take in multiple children, but she knew, without even trying that there was no way to keep them all together. She would be lucky if she was able to pair them up and organise to have them see each other every week.

She couldn’t just keep them in the Group Home forever. The maximum amount of years a child could spend there was three, and the Hargreeves children were just eleven.

There was also the press to deal with. Thanks to their father sending them off to fight against grown adults, (and _kill_ them, jesus christ–) they were in the public eye. the world had been wondering what the man had been planning to do with the seven children he had bought -bought,why the _hell_ did no one investigate this sooner?- and for eleven years the world had waited, before they finally got their answer. Child ‘superheroes’ was enough for even the most respectable newspaper to write a story on, and everyone had their eyes on the children. There would be many offers to foster, even adopt, but Carol had to be extra sure that they were genuine. 

She was sure that there were some freaks out there with their eyes on the kids seeing this as an opportunity to pounce, or even some madmen meaning to continue what Reginald had started. Thinking about this all made finding a home for them seem like a momentous task that she was far too small to handle, so she heaved herself off her chair and made her way to the work fridge. 

She needed a drink.

* * *

They had been in this place for nearly a week now and Seven was almost out of pills, which was bad, because they were for her anxiety, and this place made her feel a little anxious even while medicated. It was scary to think what she would be like once her pills were gone. Would she be reduced to a rocking, crying mess like Four had, and Six and even One, while they were here?

The worst part was that nothing bad was even _happening_ , not yet, anyway. The Group Home was technically a better place to live in than home, or at least that was what all the adults told them, but at home there were rules, there was order. They woke up at six every morning to have breakfast in total silence, and then they started on their lessons, and then at twelve, they had lunch in total silence, and then the useful siblings had their group training, while she was either brought along to record her sibling’s results, or shooed away to her room to practice the violin. They were brought back at six again to have dinner in total silence, then it was bedtime. On saturdays they got one hour of free time if they were good.

This place was nothing like that. Apparently, it was the ‘holidays’ whatever that was, and that meant there was no school, and no training for her siblings, much to their confusion. Free time was almost _all_ the time, and it would probably be scary, like it was for her siblings, if not for her pills. Which were going to run out. 

Whenever she ran out at home, she would just tell Pogo, who would get the pills from dad, but she wasn’t allowed to see Pogo anymore, or even talk about him, because nobody else knew he existed.

She didn’t really understand _why_ they were here, anyway. She knew that Pogo had called the strange lady to their house, and for some reason that meant they had to leave. She knew that Pogo wanted them to leave because they weren’t safe where they lived. Or her siblings weren’t safe, she wasn’t sure if she was included or not, or if they just took her because they didn’t realise that she didn’t have powers.

Despite the unnerving lack of structure, there were some upsides to being away from home. With no dad snapping at the others for including useless Number Seven, they didn't shoo her away like they did before. Except for Five, they didn’t make an effort to include her, but not being chased away was already more than she could hope for.

They spent all their time in their room now, and no amount of the adults cooing at them to play with the other kids would get them to leave. Not only did they all feel like they were doing something worth punishing just by wandering around, the other kids were…

She had never talked to a kid who wasn’t her one of her siblings before, so maybe it was just how normal kids acted, but they _stared_ , and pointed, and sometimes they even laughed. It made her feel small, almost as small when dad left her out of the family portraits, or when all of her siblings got to have a tattoo and she didn't.

She hated feeling small, and even the others were bothered by the other kids, so they stayed in their room. 

The adults had wanted to put them in separate rooms before, with strange kids, but either Three rumoured them, or the adults understood _why_ they were so upset to leave each other, which, based on her experience with human adults, was unlikely, but they were allowed to stay in the same room.

It wasn’t so bad, it was a little cramped, but there were _bunk beds_ , (she would’ve _loved_ to get a top bed, but all the others had beaten her, Five instantly teleporting up top, and Three rumouring Four down and leaving him to fight with Two for the last spot.) and they were fun to play with, and sometimes Five even let her stay on the top bunk with him. Sometimes she could pretend that they were being punished by dad, locking them all in one room, for something bad they all did _together,_ not them minus Number Seven. It was almost fun, then.

Still, with nothing else to do they just talked, and her siblings surprised her. When she imagined the conversations her siblings had when she wasn’t around, she imagined them talking about how brave and great they were, how fun their personal training was, how extraordinary they were. 

Instead they talked about whether they should trust any of the adults, whether dad was coming to get them or not, and how scared they all were. She didn’t know that they could feel scared, they always seemed so brave. 

It was _weird_ to think that her sibling’s lives and personalities didn’t revolve around their powers. If she didn't know any better, she would think that they were ordinary, like her.

She would almost feel like it was okay to be ordinary here, if not for One. The others didn’t think that dad was coming back, not even Three, but One did, to the point that he even wouldn’t let any of them play with the other kids. Two had asked why, and One had thought for a second, and then decided that dad would be mad at them for ‘fraternizing with civilians’ and he would punish them when he came back. That had scared them, until Four did a funny mimic of dad’s voice that made them all laugh and try to copy him.

That would have never happened at home. It was like this place was taking them further and further away from the academy, and even One’s orders held less and less power the longer they stayed here. Dad was becoming less and less real.

He was horribly real when she had searched for her pills early in the morning, and had found an empty bottle. Instantly, her stomach lurched, and she almost fell over with the intensity of it. What was wrong with her? Why was she such a baby? It was like dad was just behind her shoulder, whispering, yelling, _useless, useless, pathetic! She wasn’t even smart enough to ration her pills why didn’t she think of that–_

Something touched her shoulder, and she jerked around to see her sister, staring down at her with something like… concern? She was probably wrong. 

“Seven? Are you okay?” 

She shrugged, holding the pill bottle tight enough to turn her fingers white, hiding it from view. She didn’t want Three to know, she would just make fun of her.

“You looked like you were gonna have a panic attack. Do you want me to rumour you better? I do that for Four and Six sometimes.” she shook her head wildly, the idea of being rumoured making her heart beat hard in her chest. She’d always been more scared of Three’s powers than the others were, and she was too much of a weakling to get over it.

Three sighed from behind her, and her heart stuttered a bit when she thought that she was going to rumor her anyway but Three just turned to face the others.

“I’m bored, why do we have to stay in our room all the time anyway?”

“I _told_ you.” One sighed, sounding very, very tired. Seven didn’t think he slept properly since they were taken away. “Dad’s gonna come back for us, and he’ll get mad if he finds out we’re not following his rules.”

“How–how would he know?” Two pointed out.

“He just does, okay? He always knows when we do something bad at home”

“That’s because dad has cameras everywhere.” Five said, “I know because I took one apart one time, and he punished me for it.”

Five didn’t continue, and Three huffed. “Well, I'm bored and I want something to do. Can we go outside? We won’t even talk to the other kids.”

She knew Three wasn’t lying. A few days into their arrival Three had left the room, along with Four, to try and make some friends. They came back around ten minutes later sniffling. Apparently the other kids thought it was weird that they didn't have names, or that they didn’t know that there were hidden rituals that were a part of every interaction, and so many other things. “We aren’t normal,” Four had said. “And somehow, everyone knows it.” they stopped talking about making friends and pretending to be people since then.

“Outside is _scary_.” Six protested, and everyone but Five and Three murmured in agreement. Seven didn’t say anything, but she agreed inside her head.

“Not _outside_ outside. Out of our room, I mean.”

One made the guilty, conflicted face he always made when they asked him to let them do something dad wouldn’t allow, and he shrugged, squirming under his sibling’s stares. “I don’t know… I mean, no! We’ll already be in trouble for leaving, I don't want to risk us getting more punishment on top of that!”

“This is stupid.” Five jumped from his bunk bed and held out his hands. “Who wants to go outside? I think there’s a tv room somewhere, and it’s been ages since we watched tv.”

“Hey– no!” One cried out as Three and Four grabbed onto Five, and in a split second decision, she jumped up and latched herself onto Five too.

Five probably meant to take them just outside their door, to not strain himself with so many people, but they ended up nearly falling down the stairs, Three just barely grabbing onto Four in time before he fell all the way down.

“Ow!” Four cried out “Oh! Hey Five, you did it!”

“I did?” Five lifted his head off the floor. “Uh, yeah I did! Obviously. Where’s the tv room?”

“Do we have to go to the tv room? I want to see if this place has any toys.” Four said, helping Seven up and dusting her off, she muttered a small ‘thank you,’ but Four turned away as if he hadn’t heard it. Or cared. It didn’t matter, she was still surprised that she actually grabbed onto Five. She was never impulsive like that, was usually too numb to try, before. Was it her pills? Was she already experiencing withdrawal symptoms? Her last dosage was last night, so who knew. She had never been off of the pills long enough to know, she didn’t even know what she was like without them.

Maybe it was a good thing?

“Sev, come on!” Four yelled, and she jumped a little when she realised how far the others had already gotten without her and jogged to keep up, swallowing past the lump on her throat when she realised she was zoned out when the others were making their decision. No wonder the others never wanted her around.

Jogging a little to keep up with their fast pace, she chanced grabbing onto Five’s arm, still feeling brave. “Where are we going?” she murmured, hoping the others wouldn't hear.

“Weren’t you listening?”

She deflated a little at that, but a tiny, quiet part of her that was hidden before demanded her to defend herself, but the thought of doing that and maybe making Five angry made her stomach clench, so she settled for saying, “I think I zoned out. I was just thinking, and suddenly you guys were over there.”

“Oh. that makes sense, I guess. The others had been zoning out a lot.” like Six had been when they left, she knew, and like One was when they arrived at the Home. Maybe Four and Two as well? It was hard to remember, since nothing big had happened when those two zoned out. “We’re going to the tv room,” Five added, as an afterthought, and she nodded, feeling something big and excited in her chest at speaking up for once, and nothing bad happening. She felt _brave._

The good feeling persisted, and didn’t eventually get drowned out under a wave of numbness like her big emotions always did before, but it _was_ being threatened by the other children in the Home. Most of them were outside, she knew, because an adult had come by to invite them earlier and they declined it, as usual. It used to be mandatory, until over half of them had a panic attack, because it was too _open,_ and, _big,_ and– 

She shook herself out of it. It didn't matter, and the other kids didn’t matter either. Their points and whispers didn’t mean anything, not when she was actually _included_ on an adventure with her siblings. She couldn’t let it be ruined by something stupid.

They wandered around quickly, looking for the room. The Home wasn’t as big as the academy was, but it was still pretty sizable, so they got a bit lost, and they had to hide from wandering adults several times before they finally found it.

Luckily, there weren’t a lot of kids in the room, and they were all entranced by what was going on the tv that nobody noticed them come in and sit on the ground to watch. There was a free couch but it was hard to tell how the kids would react to them being here. 

It took a while to realise what they were watching. There was a boring sounding man talking as the screen showed a massive crowd of people outside of an important looking building. The people were holding up signs, but it was too small for Seven to read.

“What are we watching?” Four whispered, at the same time Three muttered, “this is boring. Let's change the channel.” before Seven could tell her that the older kids had the remote, Five furiously shushed them, staring intensely at the screen as if it held all the answers to his math problems.

The camera cut to a woman wearing black and white clothes, holding a large mallet. A judge she thought, this must be a political drama. The camera cut to a woman in official looking clothes, talking, but the boring voice over drowned her out. Words ran on the bottom of the screen, too fast for Seven to read, but she was far more interested in what the woman was saying when the man stopped talking.

“The accused will now tetisfy.” the judge said, her voice strong and clear in the silence of the important looking room, despite how many people were outside. “Please call Dr. Hargreeves to the stand.”

The world turned to ice, and Seven could do nothing as her father, her father who was on _tv,_ calmly walked into the frame, dressed up in the same smart suit he was always in, and he sat in the smaller box next to the lady’s bigger box.

“Why is dad on tv?” Four almost whimpered, staring at the screen with wide eyes.

“A better question is, why is he being held on trial?” Five muttered, “Did he break the law while we were gone?” Maybe in an effort to get them, she realised. Maybe One was right about dad coming back.

A lady in an official suit stood up to face their father, “Dr. Hargreeves, has your lawyer explained to you why you’re here?” 

“Of course, you’re all under the insane delusion that I was mistreating the children under my care.”

“Are they talking about us?” Three whispered, as the tv continued on, uncaring.

“So you don’t believe that you were harming the children in any way?”

“Of course not.”

“That’s interesting, because my client told me that the children told her that you regularly force the children to hurt and murder people you bring, is that correct?”

“Hey,” one of the kids had noticed them, and leaned down to talk to– _her._ “Isn’t that guy your dad?” she was frozen, stuck, unable to answer as she opened her mouth like a goldfish. 

Five stood in front of her, angrily staring the boy down.

“Don’t _talk_ to her.” he growled.

“Hey, I was just curious, it’s not my fault you’re overprotective of your girlfriend.”

“She’s _not_ my girlfriend!” Five yelled out of nowhere, almost launching himself at the boy if not for Three and Four holding him back. “Don’t talk to her, don’t talk to _any_ of them! You don’t know us, so stay the fuck away!”

“Five? What’s gotten into you? Ow!” Four yelped as Five’s elbow connected with his jaw, and he took advantage of his momentary shock to rip out of Three’s grasp, throwing himself into the boy’s chest, knocking him over.

Seven watched numbly as the room dissolved into chaos, everyone was yelling and trying to pull five off the boy and the tv was thundering in her ears, carelessly repeating all the things dad did to them, dad angrily insisting that it was fine, he bought them so he could treat them however he wanted, they weren’t even people. His words echoed in her brain, rattling around and forcing _feeling_ to build and build and build until it ripped itself out of her with a _scream._

_“Stop it! Everything, just stop!!”_

A large _crash_ sounded behind her, freezing everyone in their tracks. She slowly turned around to find the tv had actually exploded out of nowhere, melting bits of wire hanging out of the place the screen used to be, shattered pieces of glass clinked under her shoe. 

The tv was gone, silent at last, no longer spitting out things she did not want to hear, and all of a sudden, her ears stopped ringing, tuning back in with the rest of the world. 

Three was crying, Four was pulling a stunned Five away from the cursing boy, shakily biting back his own insults, ones that only Four could come up with, and she could hear One–

One?

“Guys! Are you okay? What happened, I told you not to leave!”

“Lea–l–leave them–them alone, O–one.” Two bit out, shouldering past One to help Four up.

“Three? Five? Guys, are you okay? Seven?” she blinked, realising that Six was staring at her concernidly, for the first time. She shrugged, shakily. She didn't know how she felt, she didn’t think she had felt anything like that before in her life.

“What the hell?” they all jumped, even the boy, and looked over at the adult staring into the doorway with a panicked expression. “Who made the tv explode??”

They all turned to look at Four. “What?” he yelled, his voice thick with tears. “Why is it always _my_ fault? I can’t even make things explode!”

With no warning at all, Seven burst into tears.

* * *

The lady– Marigold, sighed, rubbing her forehead in stress. 

“Alright. So you were watching your dad on trial, and one of the boys also watching it spoke to Seven, here?” she pointed at her, and they nodded, “so Five, you decided that was a good excuse to start a fight?”

“I wasn’t _trying_ to start a fight.” he mumbled. “I just wanted him to leave us alone.”

“He wasn’t bothering you in the first place, darling.” Five hunched his shoulders at that, clearly biting back a retort. Marigold looked at them all, individually as if she was staring right into their souls. “May I ask you something? And you’re all welcome not to answer.”

After a pause, they all nodded. What was the worst she could ask, anyway?

“If something like this happened where you used to live, how would your father have reacted?”

she waited for someone brave enough to speak up. Two’s stutter was too bad, and Three was crying too much. Five was too angry, and One and Four would mess it up, or lie and say dad didn’t do anything bad at all, Seven wasn’t an option, she thought bitterly so that left–

“Um… “ Six spoke up, “He would give us extra training, I think. Or not let us have any food for the next day. Or if he’s in a _really_ bad mood, he’ll hit us with his cane.” Six looked at them to see if he’d gotten anything wrong, or if he had overstepped, but he was met with only nods of agreement. That sounded about right.

Marigold sighed, looking at them with solenm eyes. “Well. none of that will happen here, I promise. Five, your punishment will be dishes duty for a week.” 

Five looked up. “That’s it? Nothing else?” 

“Nothing else. I trust that you’re mature enough to know why it was wrong and to not do it again.” Five swallowed and didn’t say anything. Seven was pretty sure that he didn’t know why it was wrong, neither did she. But they knew that it wasn’t allowed, so they wouldn’t do it. Next time the punishment might be worse than dishes duty for a week.

“What about dad?” One asked suddenly, lifting his head to look at Marigold. “He’s gonna go to jail, right? We have to help him!”

Marigold sighed, “We don't know for sure if your father is going to jail, One.”

“But he might! We need to be there for him. We–”

“I– I don't _want_ to–to see dad again.” Two snapped, and they all stared at him in shock. None of them had dared to say it aloud, but they all thought about it, except for One. It would make everything too real, too strange to acknowledge that they even _had_ the option to see dad or not. They were forbidden words, and Two had just spoken them.

“We’ll do our best to make sure you won't, Two. and One, I'm sorry but we can’t let you do that. We need to keep you guys as far away from this case as we can. The last thing you need is to be in the public eye.”

“I can handle it,” One mumbled. “I’ve handled way worse stuff than a bunch of strangers.”

“I know.” Marigold sighed. “But you don’t have to. Why don’t you all go to bed? It’s been a long day.”

Obediently, they stood up, slowly walking out of the office and to their room. The trip there was mostly silent, except for Three who was still sniffling. (One asked her why she was so upset, Three replied that the sound and the orange sparks of the tv exploding reminded her that she nearly got shot at the mission. She thought she was gonna get shot again.)

One chewed them out for not listening to him once they got to their room, and Two argued back that it didn’t matter if they were following his rules or not, if they were never going to go back home. Seven laid in her bed, turning to face the wall to pretend that the fighting wasn’t happening. She stared hard at the plaster.

If dad was in prison, or wherever they kept people going on trial, then where was mom and Pogo? She hoped they were okay, One was still mad at him for making them leave, but Seven even without her pills, couldn’t make herself feel anything about it. 

Eventually, the fighting died down, and just when she thought that everyone was asleep, she suddenly felt Four’s presence behind her, climbing onto her bed.

“Did you make the tv explode?” he whispered. She swallowed.

“I don’t know.”

“I saw. You yelled and there was this kind of shock wave coming from you. You knocked some stuff off the walls as well.” She didn’t say anything, and she felt Four shift a little back, like he was thinking of going back to bed. “Do you…” he trailed off, and she silently begged him not the ask the question that had been trying her hardest not to think about ever since the stupid tv went up in flames. 

“Do you have powers?” She squeezed her eyes shut and didn’t answer, wouldn’t answer. 

After a while, Four left, and some rustling and grunts of complaint told her that he had climbed into Two’s bed for some reason. Or maybe not for some reason. She wanted a hug as well.

Despite staying still and keeping her eyes closed, she couldn’t fall asleep. Four’s question rattled in her brain and for a brief moment she hated him for bringing it up. For making her think about it.

_Did_ she have powers? It seemed too ridiculous to think, but a part of her was latching onto it tight and refusing to let go. She looked at her hands. She had never felt the way she felt when she had yelled, forcing _something_ out of her, but maybe that was a lie. It had felt… almost familiar, like something she used to know.

She turned her attention to the sounds of her siblings. She let their breathing, snoring, whimpers of fear as they were plagued by yet another nightmare, wrap itself around her, and she concentrated on them, picking apart the sounds in her mind until they were almost alien.

Despite all the windows being closed, a soft breeze swept across their room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and here it is, after,,, a while. I'm not the world's fastest writer, lol, but I hope you've enjoyed it!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here it is!! and just to be cautious, there's some content warnings for this chap at the end notes, nothing too bad, but ghosts, man.

Four clenched the ken dolls in his hands tight as his therapist Rebbeca asked about the ghosts again. He hated therapy, apparently it was ‘Court mandated’ or whatever that meant, so they _had_ to go. The punishment for _not_ going, he wasn’t clear on, but it must be bad if even Five was going with minimal complaints. Four didn't like them because he never knew what Rebecca wanted him to say. One minute they would be having a nice conversation while Four got to play with some toys, and then the next rebecca would be asking him about unimportant details that no one but her cared about. Like the ghosts. 

“Four? What do the ghosts say?" Her voice was light and calm, the type of voice that Five would say not to trust. He shrugged, trying to act like he didn’t care, making the ken dolls kiss. Ghosts were always mean, meaner than most of the kids at the Group home. Back when they lived with dad, the ghosts were just the ones that hung around the mansion long after they died, or were just the ones that one of his siblings had killed. The ones that lived in the mansion couldn’t leave, so he was able to leave them wailing behind him as the police car drove him away, and the ghosts that his siblings killed never really bothered him in the first place. They were too busy obsessing over his siblings to really notice him.

The ghosts that resided in the group home were different. There were less of them, which Four was happy about at first, until he realised what type they were. They had been ghosts long enough to stop being obsessed with their deaths, but not long enough to be driven insane by it. Four really, really _hated_ these types of ghosts. While the other ghosts ignored him or mindlessly begged for his help, those types of ghosts _talked_ to him. 

_“He beat me, he beat me until I couldn’t breathe and then he claimed self defence that_ asshole _–”_

_“Why don’t they love me I did everything they wanted why did they just throw me away–”_

_“Lock your door you need– you need to lock your bedroom door at night or else he’ll get in–”_

The ghosts were kids in the system, the kids that the system had failed. The system that he and his sibling were in now, according to the adults. That was why he refused to trust any of the adults, wouldn’t let them know his secrets. That was how so many of the kids before him ended up getting killed. 

The therapist asked again, a kindly smile on her face, so he smiled back at her, and stayed quiet, digging through the box of doll clothes next to him in search of a dress for one of his ken dolls.

The others had to take therapy as well, and they all had mixed thoughts about it. One hated it, he said that they were trying to trick him into thinking that dad was bad and evil, and to not listen to them at any cost, but Six said that Rebecca was nice, and she actually taught him how to calm down the horror, by breathing in deeply and counting. Three said that she agreed with One, but secretly, she told him that she liked to have someone to talk to just for her deepest thoughts, even if Rebecca kept asking her whyshe liked rumouring people so much. Two’s stutter had gotten better ever since he started seeing her, but Four didn’t know if that was _because_ of Rebecca or if he was just having a good spell. Five didn’t say anything, and he thinks that Seven had started avoiding him ever since he asked her if she had powers, so he didn’t know what they thought. 

A glance at the clock told him that therapy would be ending in about ten minutes, which was good because in twenty minutes, it would be lunch time and play time. Most of them still couldn’t go outside, but Three and Five and him could sit in the grass, close to the door. If he only looked at the walls of the group home he could pretend he was in the courtyard at the academy again. He had liked the courtyard, but it didn’t have any wind. There was lots of wind here, it made the hairs on his arm stand up and made his skin tingle. He liked it, it was a funny sensation. 

Rebbeca shook him out of his thoughts with a sigh, staring at him with something that looked a bit like sadness and defeat. Four was getting better at reading faces lately, and he was way better than his siblings, but it was still tricky, sometimes. She closed her notebook and put it on the little table next to her chair, taking off her glasses.

“How about we end our session today, hm? It’s probably a good thing to finish early, did anyone tell you that you’re going to meet with a Marigold today?”

He shook his head. “No, why do I need to meet with her?”

“Well, you and your siblings are meeting with her, because she has a guest that wants to talk to you all about your future.”

“Our future? What about it?”

“You’ll have to find out. Now, do you know the way to her office, or do you need me to–”

“I know the way! Bye!” he chirped, gleefully running out of the room and away from the adult. The ghosts quietened down a bit, only murmuring and sobbing to themselves a bit now. It was weird, he’d never had this many ghosts following him so close to his own age. All the ghosts he’d met had been adults, and they either didn’t care about him, or they wanted to hurt him.

 _These_ ghosts on the other hand… cared about him? They were mean and they made him cry, but they weren’t demanding he seek revenge for them, or try and manipulate him to recreate their deaths on himself so they could prove something. In fact, they actively seemed to try and keep him out of danger, which almost nobody had ever done for him before.

It was hard to tell if he should listen to them, though. They would know the dangers to avoid better than he did, having lived and died through it, but they weren’t the most logical ghosts ever. They were emotional things, and they freaked out if they ever thought he was going to get hurt, so basically every time an adult talked to him. He probably came off really quiet, much to his frustration, but it wasn’t his fault! He just didn’t want the ghosts to hurt his ears again. 

Getting closer to Marigold's office, he turned to face the ghosts. “Okay guys, I _have_ to listen to this adult, so can you guys please be quiet, especially if she talks to me? Please? I promise, my siblings won’t let her do anything bad to me.”

“ _No, no, no, no, no, no no, no, no no, no, no–”_ one girl sobbed, but she said that all the time, so it hardly counted as a negative. The rest just moaned, cried and sometimes screamed in frustration, pain, or anger. Talking to them probably didn’t do anything to help, but he liked to think it did. 

Anyway, he couldn’t just sneak some of dad’s alcohol to shut them up if it didn’t.

He took a deep breath and opened the door like the people did on tv, ignoring the ghost’s furious whispers to _run, run while you still can, please, oh no–_ he plastered on a big grin as his siblings turned to look at him.

* * *

Six looked over as the door opened, tense, but relaxed when he realised it was just Four. He smiled a bit at his big, cheesy grin, and he patted the empty spot that he had saved for Four to sit next to him, he gleefully jumped into it, smiling widely and energetically answering Marigold’s questions about his therapy session, kicking his legs. Though Four seemed happy, he could see his eyes wildly flickering between invisible people, and the tenseness of his whole frame. The ghosts were bothering him a lot today, which meant that he would be in one of their beds tonight, crying and clinging onto them for comfort.

It was still early in the day, though. Maybe they could cheer him up and make him forget about the ghosts enough for him to stay in his bed all night, they just had to wait for carol to say what she had summoned them all to Marigold’s office for first. 

It was a bit unnerving, seeing her again. His memories of leaving the academy was splotchy at best, since kil–since seeing the Horror _get rid of_ the robbers at the mission made him feel spacy, and disconnected, and made time start to wrinkle and stretch. One minute he was standing over the men’s bodies, and the next Four was trying to get the blood off his skin with a wet washcloth, which he remembered feeling grateful for, and then suddenly he was standing outside, holding a briefcase he didn't pack, and Carol was talking to him.

The others didn’t like her. One obviously didn’t like her because she took them all from dad, but Six privately didn’t think that was such a bad thing. Dad made him use the Horror to _hurt_ people, but none of the adults here ever really mentioned the Horror yet. Three said she didn’t like her because she always agreed with One. Two didn’t seem to know what to think, and neither did Six. But she was an adult, and she was in charge of them, so they should all just shut up and listen to avoid being punished. 

Rebbeca wouldn’t like that line of thought. She would say that Carol wouldn’t punish them, or hurt them at all. Most adults didn’t, in fact, and their dad was actually the odd one out in that sense, but Six still felt like it was better to be safe than sorry.

Carol, in question, stood up, and clasped her hands together, smiling at them. "Right, now that we’re all here, I can talk to you about something important regarding your future and where you’re going to live.”

Five tilted his head. "What do you mean, ‘where we’re going to live’? I thought we were staying here.”

Carol smiled, but it looked sad. The horror squirmed a bit. "You are, but not forever. Does any of you know how the foster system works?”

They all stared at her blankly.

“Have any of you heard of the foster system before?" Head shakes and murmurs of denial filled the room and Six could see her hold back a sigh. "Right, no, of course you haven't. Well, the foster system has been invented for children who can’t stay with their families. My job is to find foster families for the children to stay until they can go back home or they’re old enough to live on their own.”

“So we’re all going to have to live with _strangers?"_ Three whispered, but Six didn’t know why she was so surprised. Ever since they left, almost everyone they met was a stranger. It was scary, and overwhelming, and if it wasn’t for his siblings, the Horror might have already slipped out of his control once or twice. It was harder to keep it calm when he was scared.

“Yes, you are, and…" She swallowed and sighed, looking very tired all of a sudden, and the Horror lurched a little, forcing him to breathe deeply in order to calm it down. "Most foster families can only take two or at most, Three children at a time. So I'm afraid you’re going to have to be–”

“Seperated?" Two whispered, his face almost white.

Carol nodded slowly, looking up at them with tired eyes, “yes, I'm afraid so.”

* * *

Diego sat in his bunk bed, his feet hanging off the edge over Four’s bed, who he could tell without looking that he was curled up in the corner with his hands over his ears, hiding from the world, or more accurately, the ghosts. He’d been like this since they left Marigold's office, all of them stunned from the news carol had delivered. She had wanted to talk in more depth about how, exactly, their foster families would be chosen and how they would be dropped off and–

He couldn’t care less about the details. All that mattered was that he had gone with her because he thought it was the best for him and his siblings, he _trusted_ her, and he ended up getting stabbed in the back. Some leader he was, maybe dad was right to let One keep the role, no matter how many times he proved he was better than– no, not One, Luther. It was still hard to remember that they had names now, not numbers. He shook his head slightly, tightening his fingers on the little folded slip of paper mom had given them what felt like months ago. 

Ever since mom had given it to him, he hasn’t let it leave his side since, touching it whenever he felt bad, letting it remind him that there was at least one person in the world who cared about them all enough to give them names, make them people, even if that person was a robot.

He was holding it so tight now he was afraid his fingers would rip it as he watched Five storm around their room, angrily muttering under his breath.

“I–god– I can’t believe– dammit! I knew we shouldn't have trusted them! I knew it!”

“If–if you knew why–why we sh–sh–shouldn’t have trusted them, the–th–then why didn’t you t–t–tell us?" He forced out, holding onto mom’s present tighter at the utter _poison_ in the glare Five sent his way.

“It should have been obvious, it’s not _my_ fault everyone but me is an idiot." He said as a way of explanation, but Two–Diego knew he was lying. Despite his paranoia, he didn’t foresee this, none of them could have.

He still couldn’t believe that they were going to get seperated. Carol had talked about arranging for them to see each other on the weekends and stuff, but she had talked about it as if it was a best case scenario, as if reuniting for an hour once a week wasn’t already far too little.

First his mom, and then his siblings, was she really that heartless? His fist was starting to hurt after clenching it for so long, so he tentatively opened it, staring at the wrinkled, damp present within.

He hasn’t told the others about their names, yet. He still felt so guilty for peeping when mom had asked him to at least open it with the others, that he hadn’t looked at it since, his sibling’s names burned into his memory. He had resolved to wait until it was their birthday to show everyone, pretending that he hadn’t looked inside it so he could become a person the same time as his siblings.

But they weren’t going to be together for their birthday.

Making up his mind, he refocused on his siblings, and was a little surprised to find that the room was almost silent, save for Four’s–Klaus’ quiet pleadings for the ghosts to leave him alone and a few of them sniffling. It was quiet as it got for them, and it was the perfect time for him to talk without getting ignored or interrupted.

So why was he still hesitating? 

He looked down and straightened mom’s present out, so that the others wouldn’t find it too hard to read, oh, he should probably find a pen and go over the pencil since the words had smudged and faded a lot since mom had given it to him, and maybe he should just wait for it to stop being damp so the others wouldn’t be grossed out and just say it–

“Mom gave us a present." To his surprise, his voice came out clear and strong, just as he always imagined it to be, in a distant future where his speech impediment was nonexistent. His siblings all stared up at him in shock.

“A present? What do you mean?" Three asked, and just like that, any confidence he’d gotten from speaking right vanished.

“Um.. It’s– I mean–”

“Spit it out." Five snapped, hissing when Six reached over from where he was comforting Four to hit him in the shoulder, or, as they would soon find out, Ben and Klaus. His heart hurt a little when he remembered he wouldn’t have anything to give to five.

“When– when we left, I said b–bye to mom–mom first, remember?" They all nodded, staring at him cautiously. "So, since we were going to leave, she gave me the present she was saving for our birthday, since–since she knew she wasn’t gonna be there–”

“Wait." Five turned around, “i thought Pogo specifically told us not to tell her that we were leaving,”

“Yeah, he did." Allison murmured, looking up at him. 

“Uh–yeah, h–he did, but i...told–told her anyway?”

“Why would you do that?! It was the one thing he told us not to do!”

He scowled, mouth opening to defend himself but Four cut him off, sounding tired and out of energy, not at all like how Klaus was supposed to be.

“What does it matter? If he hadn’t told her, we still would have left anyway, we just wouldn't have gotten a present out of it." He heard a sigh and felt the bed sway as Four shifted. "And even if she did stop us, I don’t think that would have been such a bad thing, anyway." That last bit was more murmured to himself, but Diego still heard him anyway, but he wasn’t sure if he agreed. All he wanted was to keep his siblings safe, and they definitely weren't safe at dad’s. 

“How would you know?" Five asked.

Silence, and then, “the ghosts told me.”

They all turned to Four incredulously, and Two slowly slid off of his bed to see his brother. He was curled up tight into a ball, facing the wall, barely seeming to register Ben's comforting hand, rubbing his back. 

“The ghosts? What do _they_ know?”

“They’re kids." Four looked up at them with red rimmed eyes for the first time since they entered their room that night. "They’re kids, like us, and they were in the foster system, and–" He swallowed, eyes flickering around invisible points in the room, and the thought that he was probably seeing the ghosts made his stomach clench. "They were killed by their foster parents. They were beaten to death or starved, or–or sometimes they killed themselves because their foster dad kept coming into their room at night–”

“Four." Luther suddenly spoke, “Are you saying that’ll happen to us if they seperate us?”

“Uh, yeah? Maybe. I don’t know. They keep saying it will, and they’d know.”

“It doesn’t mean that it’ll happen, though," Three murmured, voice tight with anxiety, “i mean– you only ever see the worst of the worst, right? Just because there’s some kids who’ve died, doesn’t mean every kid who goes into foster care will die. How many ghosts are you even seeing anyway?”

“…only a few.”

“But we can’t risk it." One stood up, looking scarily like the leader he had been at the mission. Single minded and scary, desperately trying to cover up the fact that he was just as scared as they were. "Pogo’s old and senile anyway, right? He was wrong, dad would never let any of us die." He paused, almost desperately searching with his eyes for– _something,_ Two wasn’t sure what. "We would be in more danger when we’re separated and alone with strangers than when we’re together at home.”

“It doesn’t matter anyway." Ben murmured. "It’s not like we can just leave.”

“Can’t we?" Luther hissed, getting a determined glint in his eye. "Five can teleport, and Three can rumour all the adults into thinking we were never here, wait, she can just rumour the adults to leave us and dad alone! It’d be so _easy_ to run away, why didn’t I think of it before?”

“I don’t– I don't _want_ to go back ho–home." He hissed, glaring at One, who faltered, stepping back a little.

“Why not? Everything will go back to normal, and we’ll get to stay together.”

“We’ll–we’ll be t–together but–” 

“I'll have to kill people again." Ben whispered.

“And– and the mausoleum. The ghosts here are bad, but they’re a piece of cake compared to _them." F_ our curled up tighter, and One groaned, rubbing his face.

“I _told_ you, Dad only makes us do that do that sort of stuff so we can be stronger _,_ he’s not doing it to _torture_ us or anything.”

“Could’ve fooled me," Klaus murmbled, and Six snickered a little. 

“Why don’t we just– _not_ go back home?” Five asked, and Three’s eyebrows pulled together. 

“What do you mean?” 

“We run away so that they can’t separate us, but we don’t go back home. We just leave.”

“And go where exactly?” Allison crossed her arms, “the streets?”

Six looked thoughtful but Four squawked.“We’re not going to live there! There’s rapists and murderers and mobs and pedo–”

“Shut up Four, _no_ we’re not going to live on the streets. I have an idea.”

Six leaned forward, “what is it?”

Five smirked, pleased that someone was playing along, “i’ve been working on this,” he grabbed his notebook from underneath his pillow, flipping it open to reveal incomprehensible math equations, “it’s a formula for time travel, i haven’t got it yet, but i know i’ll get it before we’re separated. We can go somewhere safe and no one will ever bother us again.”

“Um… Five, is this such a good idea? You still have trouble teleporting where you want to go.” They all blinked at Seven, totally unused to her even speaking up, never mind disagreeing with Five. she blushed and looked down. “It just seems dangerous… maybe we should stay. Seeing each other once a week isn’t so bad, and we could call each other.”

“No, we’re not staying,” Luther asserted, “and we’re not time travelling either, Seven’s right, it’d be too dangerous. We’re going to dad’s and that’s final.”

“I don’t _want_ to go on another mission.” Six murmured, and One groaned.

“I don’t get why you hated it so much! We were helping people, being superheros! Maybe dad’s right about you guys being too self absorbed to see it.”

“He _said_ that?" Allison cut Two off just before he opened his mouth to snap at One.

“Yeah! And–and he said that guys can’t handle your training because you're weak and pathetic! If you actually focused on your training and you listened to dad, you’d understand! All he’s done was help us!”

“Oh, _f–fuck you,_ One." He hissed, ignoring the scandalized gasps from his siblings as he stepped closer, glaring at his brother. "What about– what about what he did to you? Was making you kill the guys he brought in helping you?" His therapist had said many things about how their father treated them, things that made him feel raw and vulnerable inside, which made him angry, but one thing he had always easily agreed with her on was that dad shouldn’t have made them kill innocent people just for training, and it seemed to have hit its mark with One, who actually stumbled back a little. 

“It’s–it was– whatever! I'm the leader, so you have to do what I say!" He yelled, stalking over to Allison. “Come on Three, we need to rumour Marigold to–”

“No.”

“… _what?”_

“ _No._ I don't want to go back home, and I don't want to see dad again." They all blinked. Three never disagreed with One. Never. Diego wasn’t ever sure if it was because she wanted to stay in dad’s good graces, or if she just didn’t want to lose Luther’s friendship, but she always took his side in a fight, and it was clear that One thought this would be no exception.

He stared at her, blinking wildly and it took Diego a second to realise that he was trying not to cry. He felt guilty all of a sudden. It took a lot to make One upset, so he must already have been nearing his limit for something as simple as Three disagreeing him for once to tip him over the edge.

“…One?" Three cautioned, hand tentatively reaching out to touch his shoulder. "Are you okay–”

“I'm _fine._ " He hissed, violently shrugging Allison's hand off. "I'm just– I'm just trying to keep you guys _safe!_ If we get separated then I won’t be able to stop anything bad from happening, and you guys could–you could become one of the ghosts that haunts Four!”

Klaus let out a whimper at that, hands reaching up to clench his hair as tears filled his eyes.

“H–hey! Don’t say that!" He yelled, scowling at Luther for picking on one of their vulnerable siblings. They had an unspoken agreement to not _do_ that.

One stepped back, still blinking wildly, but this time Two could see the sheen of tears on his eyes. “Do you guys even _care?_ " He whispered, barely concealing a sob, “I _love_ you, I'd rather be with you guys and deal with dad again than be alone with some stranger." Tears finally spilled over, and he vigorously rubbed it off, staring at them hard, waiting for them to join him.

They didn’t say anything, too shocked to form words. Four was shaking, and Three, Six, and Seven were all wiping away tears. Five was sitting with his head in his hands, and Two was _trying_ to talk, was _trying_ get his words past his stupid mouth and tell Luther that they _did_ love each other, that they wanted to agree with him, but Two was sure that they all knew if they went back home, there would be no leaving again, but his words couldn’t even get past his throat, forcing him to worlessly open and shut his mouth like a goldfish as he fruitlessly attempted to picture the words in his mind.

One’s face steeled suddenly. "Fine." He moved quickly, and suddenly he was holding three’s arm tight in his hand.

“Ow! One, you’re hurting me!" She shrieked, hitting him hard in the shoulder, which of course did nothing.

“I _need_ to do this, you’ll thank me later, when– ow, guys, stop! I need to do this!" He yelled as Diego and Five launched at him, ready to pull Allison away from him, away where it was safe, because apparently Luther was dangerous now, apparently he wasn’t above forcing them to use their powers if it meant being daddys’ good little boy, and _god, what was even happening, why was he acting like this_ –

 _“Stop it!" A_ voice suddenly reverberated throughout the room, loud enough that the air actually _moved,_ a force of wind strong enough to push them all to the floor.

“What–" He started, looking up, and all he could see was Vanya, standing in front of them with tears streaming down her eyes, her hands clenched tightly over her mouth. 

“What happened? What was that?" Three groaned, sitting up, accepting Four’s hand when he moved to help her up.

“It was her." Klaus murmured.

“W–w–what?”

“It was Seven, she used her powers.”

“Four, _shut up." S_ even whined through her hands, clenching her eyes shut.

“But–but– Seven doesn’t have powers, she’s useless, it was just a gust of wind or something–”

“It was your pills, wasn’t it?" Five whispered, cutting One off. His eyes were glued to her as if she was a shiny new mathematical question, all set for solving They all stared at her, holding their breaths and after a few beats she nodded, tears squeezing out of her eyes.

“What do you mean, pills?" Six murmured, pulling Diego up. "Seven? What does he mean?”

“I–" She choked out, shuddering out a sob. "I–I ran out of my pills a while ago, and i– and I didn't wanna tell anybody, I didn't know I had powers, I didn't kno–ow." She Bent her head so that her hair covered her face and slid to the ground, her back heaving with sobs, barely acknowledging Allison when she put a gentle hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry, I just wanted you guys to stop fighting, I'm sorry.”

“I– I don’t– I don’t understand, what do her pills have to do with any of this?" Luther stammered out, glancing helplessly at them as if they didn’t know as much as he did.

“Her pills were stopping her powers." Five crouched down near Vanya, not touching but just sitting near her. From where he was standing, Two could see her leaning her body in Five’s direction, as if she was finding him much more comforting than Allison, who by now was almost hugging her. "I noticed that she ran out, but I didn't say anything, since if something bad happened I figured she’d tell me.”

“I saw her use her powers, when you were fighting that guy in the tv room, remember? I saw her yell and this– _energy_ came out of her and broke the tv!”

“That’s what it looked like as well," Six agreed, moving to crouch near Vanya, tentatively, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to be there.

“No but that– no, that doesn’t make sense, dad wouldn't give her pills to just– _stop_ her powers, that doesn’t make any sense.”

Three’s shoulders twitched, a faint approximation of a shrug. "I don’t know…" She murmured, looking down at her hands, like she did whenever she felt guilty, but what reason did she have to feel guilty? “Dad’s done… a lot of stuff. If he thought he had to, I don't see why he wouldn’t.”

“I bet not even if he thought he had to, dad’s an asshole like that." Five muttered.

“Y–yea– yeah, he wouldn’t even–even give us names l–like the normal kids have, mom had t–to do it.”

“…What? Mom never gave us names.”

He froze as soon as he realised what he’d accidentally revealed, and now it was going to be impossible to play it off as a weird dream he had, the others knew him far too well to be able to tell when he was lying.

“uh–uh–uh–" Nerves forced him to even stammer through his filler words as all of his siblings stared at him, Seven’s powers being almost completely forgotten in the face of this new information and that really said something about how crazy this whole day was.

“What do you mean? Two? Tell me what you mean!" One yelled at the end of his sentence, and to his surprise and humiliation, he flinched back, stammering even worse now. His face burned as he thought about how pathetic he must look to his siblings, so he glared at them a little so they’d know he wasn’t a baby like dad said he was, but he did feel a little better when Allison hit Luther in the shoulder.

“I–I–I–" He swallowed, closed his eyes, and pictured the words in his mind. For once all of his siblings stayed quiet, allowing him enough time to get his words in order enough to get them out. "It–it was the p–presant mom gave us." With shaking fingers he retrieved it from his pocket, where he’d put it when everyone started shouting to make sure that mom’s present would stay safe, and slowly opened it. "She–she was gonna give us _names._ Names for our birthday." They all stared, expressions ranging from wonderment to blankness, but all of them held an air of disbelief. It was too good to be true.

“U–uh, here, she wrote our names on here, look," He fumbled with the paper a little bit, but he managed to hold it out for the closest person to take it, handing it to Ben, not Six, Ben.

Ben looked at him, and then at the paper, before tentatively slipping his thumb under a slip to pull it open and–

It was suddenly snatched out of his hand.

“One! why’d you do that?!" Four squawked.

“Dad didn’t give us names for a reason!" He yelled, holding the note up high where none of them could grab it.

“One! Don’t be stupid, give it back!" Three yelled as Two lunged at him, just missing as One stepped back. 

“No! You guys need to learn to respect dad! He didn't give us names for a reason!”

“But _mom_ gave it to us," Four whined, and One made a strange face, in between a scowl and a distressed expression, making him look almost as if he was about to cry again. 

“Mom’s– mom’s just a broken machine!" They all gasped, falling silent and still, except for Two, who roared and threw himself at One’s torso but of course he was too weak. _He was too weak._ The thought only made him more furious and he punched One hard, who grunted but nonetheless stayed still, holding mom’s present out of reach, no matter how high Two jumped to catch it.

“G–g–g–give it back!” p–plea–ease, just–just give it back." His voice became thick with _something,_ definitely not tears, no way, but it motivated Three to step forward, looking furious. 

“Don’t make me do this, One.”

“Don’t make you– _oh." R_ ealisation dawned on his face, but nonetheless, he kept mom’s present out of reach. 

Three took a deep breath. "I heard a rumour–”

It happened so fast, Two barely had time to react, even with all of his training. One shoved him away, hard enough that he would probably bruise later, and then he– 

he–

 _Tore_ mom’s present in half.

And again. And again, and again and again until mom’s presents and their _names_ and their _personhood,_ innocently fluttered to the floor, with no chance of ever piecing it back together. 

There was a strange sound in the air, that was composed of hiccups and sobs, and oh, it was him. He couldn’t bring himself to tear his eyes away from the ruined remains of mom’s present, even as it blurred into unintelligible shapes and colours from the tears filling his eyes.

One shuffled guiltily. "I'm sorry, but I had to do it! You’ll thank me later, promise.”

Five looked at him incredulously. "F _uck_ you, One. And I mean it." He stepped over and gently pulled Seven up by the shoulders, guiding her in her bed and teleporting to his bunk bed on top of her. They all watched, expecting him to say something else, something that would somehow fix everything.

He pulled out his math workbook and sat with his back to them.

But the ones left behind hesitated when Two didn’t even sit up or attempt to wipe the tears rolling down his cheeks. He could see One’s feet from where he was sitting, and he saw his feet shuffle awkwardly, and walk away.

“Hey, Two, are you alright? Don’t worry, I'm not mad about mom’s present, names are overrated anyway–”

“Four. Shut up." Three hissed, and Six rolled his eyes, crouching in front of him. 

“Uh, don’t cry, Two, it’s okay? Well– it’s not, but we can talk about it tomorrow when we have a clear head, okay? So–”

“Go away." He murmured.

“What–” 

“Go away! Leave me alone! I don’t care, I _don't._ So just leave me alone, I hate you!”

He could feel their touches suddenly disappearing as they flinched away, and when he continued to ignore them, they slowly left, Four’s footsteps being the last to leave.

Feeling awkward being the only one crying on the floor while everyone was in their bunk beds, he forced himself to stand up, gathering the remains of mom’s present and carrying it with him to his bed, climbing up one handed.

It was silent, no sound but their muffled sobs and sniffles, until one of the adults opened the door.

“Hey, lights out time– oh hey, you’re all in bed! Good job! We should use you all as a model example of what to do at bed time, eh?" He left before any of them could answer, turning off the light and causing Four to whimper.

Despite the hell the ghosts must have been giving him, he stayed in his bed the whole night, quietly sobbing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warnings:  
> gore,  
> allusions to sexual abuse,  
> child death
> 
> all from ghosts, don't worry.
> 
> I have to say, I'm not really happy with this chapter? but school starts up again tomorrow, so I wanted this done before then. I'm worried that their argument comes off as Luther bashing, and I love my boi too much to do him dirty like that. hope you enjoyed!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's here!!! sorry it took so long, school is taking up all my time to write ;-;

Three always had trouble sleeping, ever since she was little. Dad hated it, it interfered with the experiments he did every weekend, where he would force them to wear EEG leads so he could watch their brain activity as they slept. Three never liked them, they always made it impossible to get comfortable in bed, she could never understand how the others didn’t find them as uncomfortable as she did. But as well as the discomfort of the leads, the horrible feeling of being _watched_ was strong enough that she could never get past it to sleep. The idea that her brain’s every activity spike, every nightmare, was on full display for dad to see and write notes about stopped her from even trying to nod off, despite the punishment she’d get for not cooperating.

Thankfully, most of the others had some trouble sleeping because of similar reasons, so at least she wasn’t alone on the weekends.

Here, however, nobody seemed to care about studying their brains, so after a month here, most of them were sleeping somewhat peacefully. Only a few of them woke up screaming from nightmares on a good week.

She guessed she was lucky that she didn’t get them, but she knew that was because she was never asleep for long enough for anything more than strange colours and shapes to form. She had hoped, when she noticed that the others were getting better sleep, that she would finally be able to rest long enough to feel refreshed, alive, ready for the day, and all of those good things that her therapist said sleep was supposed to bring. No such luck.

She didn’t know what time it was, but she knew it was very late, maybe even very early now. She wouldn’t be able to tell until it was light enough to see the clock on their wall. She was staring at that same wall right now, feeling seriously bored now that she’d given up on sleeping, so she wasn’t so upset or even surprised when she heard a choked gasp, followed by a stifled sob. Another nightmare. At least it wasn’t loud.

She listened to her sister desperately attempt to calm herself down, wondering why Five hadn’t already teleported down to her, offering his characteristic comfort veiled as insults that somehow always calmed Seven down, until she remembered–

Five wasn’t here.

She swallowed thickly, and looked over her shoulder, taking in the murky silhouette of her sister hunched over, shaking with sobs. With a defeated sigh, she climbed out of bed.

“Seven?” she whispered, “it’s okay, nothing is gonna hurt you,” she felt Seven flinch a little as she climbed into her bed and this close she could see the shine of the tears on her face, as well as the poorly hidden disappointment. She wasn’t who her sister wanted.

She pressed her lips together, holding back a frustrated sigh. She was half tempted to leave her alone, let someone else deal with her, but she stayed. Seven was her sister after all, and like One, Three looked after her siblings, even if they preferred missing brothers over her.

She glanced over at One’s bed, barely making out his silhouette under his blanket. After their fight she had refused to even talk to him, too hurt that her best friend betrayed her. Hurt that he tried to force her to rumour Marigold into letting them go back home, despite all their protests, despite the fact that they didn’t want to go home.

He still tried to get them to run away after the fight though, as if he didn’t really understand _why_ they were so upset, didn’t understand why Three had flinched away from him when he put his hand on her shoulder.

Underneath all her anger she missed her best friend. She wished she knew what he was thinking, wished that One would apologise so she could understand _why_ One ripped up mom’s present in the first place, though she knew his reasoning probably wouldn’t make a lot of sense. She never understood the way her brother saw dad. Sure, she could understand why he would want to be in dad’s good graces, but wanting _love_ from dad? Acceptance? It was an impossible dream, and she could never figure out how to tell him that.

It didn’t matter anyway, because One had messed it all up. He hurt her and the others, and he refused to apologise for any of it. Sure, he had apologised for hurting her arm after she’d ignored him for long enough, desperate to make friends with her again, but it wasn’t enough, she wanted an apology for almost being made to rumour someone, for wanting to go home to dad, for the whole fight that ruined everything, for _ripping up her chances of becoming a person–_

It didn’t matter, she didn’t care, it had been weeks since the fight, and One had stopped trying to make it up to her. Stopped trying with all of them, really. When before he was bossy and mean, trying to fill up dad’s empty space while he was gone, it was easy to get him to forget and play with them, if he was distracted enough. It was easy to see that he was their brother, in the end. He laughed and joked with them, even if he stressed that dad wouldn’t approve. After Five and Six left, he lost all his motivation to keep them together. Before, she would have just asked why, and One would have told her, but it looked like it was her turn to be given the silent treatment. That was fine, One clearly didn’t care about them in the first place if he was willing to give up on them like that

Her heart clenched a little as she thought about him but she pushed the feelings away. Dad always said there was no use dwelling in the past.

She shook her head a little and turned back to her sister. She was still crying, and Three could see the faint white glow surrounding her hands, trying and failing to restrain her powers. For some reason the sight made her mad. Maybe it was just another reminder of their fight, but she scoffed, removing her hand from Seven’s shoulder. She wasn’t calming her down anyway.

“I heard a rumour that you stopped crying until morning” she snapped, and Seven’s sobs cut off, a betrayed gasp replacing it. “Nothing bad is gonna happen, so just go to sleep and forget about it, okay?” Seven let out a hiccup at that, and Three slid out of her bed. She didn’t need her siblings anyway, and they had to learn to not need her. It was starting to get light anyway, Seven wouldn’t have to wait long for morning.

* * *

If she thought that they were awkward around each other after their fight, it was nothing compared to how they acted around each other after Five and Six left. When before it was silent glares and promises to fight more when there weren’t adults present, now was just… almost nothing. They still spent time together, but they didn’t feel like friends anymore. The adults had noticed, and had tried to put them in group therapy to make them friends again, and it worked, a little, until Four said that they weren’t talking to each other because the glue that held them together in the first place was gone. Three had never thought about it like that, but now that it had been pointed out, she couldn’t unsee it.

What made it worse was that it had been about two weeks now, and there was no talk of visiting Five and Six, not even for an hour. Three had always considered herself more mature and self sufficient than her siblings. She knew more about the outside world than they did, and she knew how to stay out of trouble and in dad’s good graces, so whenever she thought of her future, she imagined herself successful, beautiful, with a name, and having cut off all ties to her academy past. Including her siblings.

She had thought that it would be easy to make friends to replace them, that they weren’t anything more than annoyances in her life that she had to overcome, but now that they were ignoring each other, and she had an abundance of other kids interested in the academy wanting to be her friend, she was… lonely. She– she didn’t _miss_ them, but it would be nice if everything went back to normal.

And playing with the other kids was boring, anyway, they never got her ideas the way the others did, and they _always_ asked about the academy. A _lways._

They told on her when she rumoured them to stop as well, wailing about how horrible it was to be taken control like that, to lose their own free will. Three thought that they needed to grow up, being mind controlled wasn’t _that_ bad.

So even though she didn’t _need_ her siblings, she still rumoured one of them to play with her. Just because they weren’t tattletales, not because she missed them or anything.

She went into the play room, rumouring the kids to not play with the toy box she had her eye on, even though no one was paying attention to it at this moment, she wanted to make sure. nothing was sacred in the toy room.

She made off in a random direction, deciding any one of them that she’d come across would do for the game she wanted to play, she had seen a farm on tv for the first time last night, and the group home had some farmyard toys for whatever reason, and she wanted to find out more about this new, mysterious thing.

Luckily she didn’t have to look for long, Four and Two were in the tv room, mostly alone since there was nothing ever good on tv during the day, but Four was entranced by the two women yelling at each other on the screen over… shoes? What a weirdo.

Two glared at her, “w–w–w–wha–" He clenched his teeth and growled. "W–w–w–"

"Don't hurt yourself." She scoffed. If looks could kill, she would be dead ten times over by the way Two glared at her. he still didn't speak, though. Ever since their fight, Two's stutter had gotten bad, bad enough that he could barely get a word out before he got frustrated enough to give up. Nothing seemed to help, not his therapy sessions, not picking fights with One, not even Three's demands to know what her name was. His stutter was so bad whenever anything from the fight came up that she only got the first letter of her name, from Two's stuttered, "A–a–a–a–a," before he pulled at his hair and gave up, his eyes shining with suppressed tears. Even rumouring didn't work it just made Two stutter for minutes on end, her brother trying and failing to tell her her name with tears running down his face. Now he wouldn't even write it down for her. Well, it didn't really matter anyway, it wasn't like she really cared about whatever dumb name mom picked out for her, when she could just find a book about names and choose one she liked there.

~~It wouldn’t be the same.~~

“I want to play." She crossed her arms when Two's glare intensified and Four took his attention off his dumb tv show, nervously glancing back at her.

"Uh... well, you know I would love to, dear sister, but this show's just _enchanting,_ I'm sure you understand."

She rolled her eyes, no one even _talked_ like that in real life, her brother was just being dumb. "Yeah, but I want to play. You can watch your dumb tv show tomorrow."

Four glared back at the tv screen, then at her, and shrugged. "It's just not fun when you rumour us to do everything."

“It’s fun for me." He were being unfair, and just for that, Three was gonna make sure to play with Four the same time his dumb show came on tomorrow. “Four, I heard a rumour that you’re going to play with me.”

“Hey!” Two yelled, as Four robotically stood up and stood next to her, looking resigned. she blinked at him, hope briefly rising that she'd finally gotten Two to talk–at least this one thing would go back to normal– but that seemed to be all Two could get out, as he got stuck on the next word, "y–y–you–y-y-"

She wasn’t even going to dignify that with an answer, turning around, she grabbed Four and marched off, dragging him into the toy room and finding her toy box left untouched, as it should be.

She didn’t even need to rumour Four into taking the contents of the box out, but that made her just a little more angry than she usually was. Even when he was doing what she wanted, Four was acting without her input, without her control, and that made her heart beat hard in her chest and her palms sweaty, so to get rid of it, she rumoured him to pick the cow instead of the horse. There. She felt a little better now.

Rumouring Four was usually a mixed bag. Ever since Six left, he’d been doing his very best to act as if everything was normal. Like they weren’t being slowly picked out and separated by the adults, like they were still happy. The end result was everything would seem fine, and Four would be resigned to her rumours with minimal complaints until Three would say something wrong, rumour him to do something seemingly innocuous and he would start crying or worse, go completely silent.

It was for this reason that she never really played with him, nowadays. She usually just rumoured him to stop crying or just found someone else to play with, but today she didn’t want either of that to happen, and what with how quiet Four was, it was looking to be a bad day.

Swallowing, she pointed at the toy Four was staring at, trying to figure out what it was. “That’s a farmer. I saw them on tv the other day, they look after animals.”

“Oh,” Four said, his voice tense with false livelihood. “That’s nice.”

Grimacing, she opened her mouth to say something, maybe rumour him to be happier better, but a hand on her shoulder made her jump.

“Hello you two,” said Marigold, smiling warmly at them. Three clenched her fists, as Four smiled thinly and waved. “Three, I need you to get your brother Two and come up to my office. There’s a couple who wants to meet you.”

Four Froze next to her. That was almost exactly what she said when she took away Five and Six, never to be seen again. She swallowed thickly, the stare of her brother almost a physical weight as he waited for her reaction. He probably expected her to rumour Marigold.

Instead, she stood up, and nodded, promising to arrive at her office in less than two minutes.

Marigold smiled and thanked her, and Three’s neck prickled as Four stared behind her. She didn’t turn around to see what expression he was wearing.

* * *

Four had said that Five and Six were the glue that held them together, they weren’t anything without them, and while Four tried to take it back, Three was the only one of them who actually realised that he was right. They weren’t a family anymore, not without Five and Six. All that they did now was sit around avoiding each other, the Group home trapping them all in limbo. They all knew now that Dad wasn’t coming to bring them back, but struggling to remain together when they’ve already been shattered apart was preventing them from moving forward, from ever growing up and being someone.

And Three desperately wanted to be someone, she wanted to be a person, a person that was _importan_ t, anyone other than bossy Number Three.

That was why when Carol introduced her and Two to a middle aged couple interested in ~~buying–~~ fostering them, she smiled, and laughed and joked and pretended to be all those good little girls she’d seen on tv. It worked, they were utterly charmed by her, she could tell. There was a niggling part of her that wanted to rumour them to be sure, but she ignored it for now. She would probably get in trouble for it with Marigold anyway.

She might _have_ to rumour them because Two was dead set on destroying her plan at every turn. He glared, crossed his arms and refused to even _try_ to talk even when the adults asked him about his powers, and he usually loved talking about his powers. The knife-throwing part of it anyway. Maybe if she managed to get them on their own she could rumour them into taking her and leaving Two if they decided that she and her brother weren’t what they wanted. She didn’t particularly mind leaving Two behind anyway, she wanted a fresh start. If she told herself that enough times then maybe she would feel less like she was abandoning her remaining siblings. She _wasn’t_ , she was just the only one who could see that staying would lead to nothing.

The adults laughed at her jokes, Two continued to glower, and Mr and Mrs Williams smiled and asked if they wanted to live with them.

Three said, _“yes.”_

Two answered with a frantic head shake

Carol’s face was heavy and sad when she explained that they didn’t really have a choice. With their ‘circumstances’ they couldn’t afford to be picky. If the adults wanted to foster them, then they were going to foster them.

That made her feel a little better about Five and Six at least. Neither of them would have left if they had anything to say about it.

They were ordered to pack their things, and Three complied, desperately distracting herself with thoughts of what it would be like to be a person, and have names, and maybe even make some friends without her siblings coming and ruining everything. As long as she figured out how to get Two to leave her alone.

Maybe it was a good thing Two was coming as well, it meant that if not the others, at least _she_ would get her name out of him. Eventually.

She was told to say goodbye, but if she said goodbye then one of the others would start to cry, and she _hated_ seeing them cry, and it would make her feel bad enough to make the adults let her stay and she would never get out of this place. No, she needed to be strong. She was never going to see the others again, she didn’t want to make the last memories she had of them too painful.

But just like everything, Two ruined it by creating hysterics, actually _crying_ and hugging Four and begging Carol to _d-d-d-do-on't-t p–p-pl–_

They dragged him away before he could get the words out, and they held the others back as they cried. She stared at the ground as her brother was stuffed in the car. The group home worker looked resigned, as if he had to do it many times before. He audibly sighed in relief when Three obediently climbed in, clutching her bag that was barely full, filled with nail polish she had gotten for their last birthday, and the second hand clothes they had received when they first arrived at the group home. She was carrying Two’s as well, as he was too busy crying and yelling to carry it on his own. It was full of clothes, and several knives that the adults had yet to find and confiscate.

Her and Two leaving hurt so much worse than Five and Six leaving. At least last time they all thought that they would see each other again.

Unable to resist any longer, she glanced up, saw Four’s tear streaked face, full of fear. Seven’s was expression almost bordering on anger, if her sister could even feel such a thing, and One–

One wasn’t angry, or resigned, he looked so _sad,_ clinging on to his remaining siblings as if they would turn to dust right then and there.

She quickly averted her gaze back to her lap.

“I–I–I–I _hate–hate you_ , Thr–Three,” Two hissed, sobbing so hard that it felt like the whole car was shaking with it. She froze. That was the most words Two had spoken in ages.

“Now Two, that’s no way to talk to your sister,” the man fostering them said, voice quiet and calm, which made Two flinch back, pressing his lips together in an effort to shut up. She resisted the urge to do the same. She didn’t know what normal parenting was like, but the gist she had got from the other kids at the group home was essentially normal parents were the same as their father, but without training, or powers, or big fancy mansions.

She clutched her and Two’s bags close as the Group home faded into the distance, silently rumouring herself that she made the right choice. _She made the right choice._

(Her powers never worked on herself)

* * *

One had been six when dad told him what being Number One meant. He had known that it was important, that it was the reason why dad liked him better than the others, but that conversation had been the first time the _responsibility_ of being dad’s favourite had sat too heavy on his shoulders.

He was to keep his siblings in line (all of them? How? They never listened to him–), to ensure that they obeyed (but dad made them do things that _hurt_ them– would they start hating One too?), and most importantly, keep them out of harm’s way. (he failed, he failed every time dad would bring them back from training, in pain or frightened, or even unconscious. One couldn’t decide which was worse.)

But Dad had chosen him to be the leader, to be Number One, for a _reason_. He was the one who was supposed to keep all of his siblings in line, keep them out of danger, keep them all _together._

A small, traitorous part of him is so, so glad that dad isn’t here to see how much of a _failure_ he is. What sort of leader lets his siblings be picked off by any adult who wanted them?

A few weeks into arriving at the group home, he had begrudgingly accepted that dad wasn’t coming to get them as soon as he thought, and that maybe his siblings wouldn’t get horribly punished if he didn’t do his best to do what dad would have wanted him to do. And before their argument, the others had even started to tease him about how overprotective he had been, and he had blushed and grumbled and _maybe_ agreed with them a little bit, not that he would ever tell them that.

He now realises how _naive_ he had been, he hadn’t been protective _enough._ Maybe if he hadn’t let any adults see his siblings in the first place they would still all be together. They would be safe.

The first week Five and Six were gone, he had expected Five to teleport back, saying that he had made a big mistake, One was right all along, and he would bring them all back home to dad, and everything would go back to normal at last.

But that never happened, no matter how hard he wished for it, and he couldn’t change the past either, he couldn’t bring his siblings back, all he could do was hold on to Seven and Four– his two siblings who he loved but never really _knew–_ and keep them close, never letting them out of his sight because if he did then the next day they might be gone–

Surprisingly, neither Four or Seven protested. He couldn’t decide if it was because they were the more docile of his siblings, or they were just as scared of being taken away as he was.

Regardless of the reason, they generally stayed where he put them, with only minimal snarking from Four, and he would be happy about it, if it didn’t make his heart pang about how angry Five would have been to be limited like this, would have teleported away with a few of the others as soon as One turned his back, Two would have picked a fight for no reason, and Three would have convince him that it was okay to leave them alone, she wouldn’t let anyone be taken away. Even Four back then would have sneaked away as soon as the opportunity presented itself.

Now, he was usually too busy holding his hands over his ears, telling thin air to shut up, and asking Seven if she was _sure_ she didn’t have any of her pills left.

One knew it was the ghosts, and he knew what dad would have wanted him to do about that– _throw him in the dark, lock his brother in with the dead–_ but he was finding himself caring less and less about the specifics of how dad would have wanted him to deal with his siblings. He was already a failure anyway.

Their room felt strange and empty without their siblings to fill up the space. When they had first arrived and One had tried to keep them all together, it was boring at times, but it was easy to start up a conversation or make up a game to play. Having six siblings, while a pain most of the time, did have its perks. One knew this because having only two siblings was significantly more boring.

He had a lot of books to read, at least, and he still had a bit to read. He knew Four would rather be in the tv room, rotting his brain with reality daytime television, but instead he was drawing on the walls with a marker he’d stolen from Marigold. One had no idea if that was allowed or not, dad let him do it, but he found that most adults didn’t like what dad let them do.

Seven was angry at him. She wanted to train her powers, but One wouldn’t let her.

He still had no idea what to make of them, to be honest. He had thought that she was just taking a leaf out of Four’s book and making it all up for attention, but after a few more angry outbursts, one which managed to blow a whole _door_ out of its hinges, One had no option but to believe her. He was also starting to understand why dad had kept her medicated, Seven without her pills could be _scary_. He had never thought that Seven could be capable of feeling anything stronger than slightly upset. It had gotten to the point that the adults noticed and had gotten Seven to focus on her ‘anger issues’ with Rebecca. They still blamed him and Four for all the damage she caused with her powers, which wasn’t fair, but he wasn’t about to tell the adults anything that could be used against them.

He had no idea if her extra therapy actually helped, but she hadn’t had any outbursts since then, as long as he didn’t bring up Five, or their fight.

His stomach clenched as he remembered, and he rolled over, squeezing his eyes against the _guilt he should not be feeling._ He had done the right thing! Right? They _were_ going to end up back with dad at some point, though One was getting less and less certain how, but he knew that dad wouldn’t be happy if his soldiers had gotten names without his permission.

He didn’t even get why the others wanted names so much, they were machines, they weren’t people, they didn’t get names. He pulled down his sleeve a little, staring at his tattoo that was already starting to fade, despite the fact that they had only gotten them a year ago. He traced it, making his wrist tickle in the process. A year ago, he had all his siblings, his dad, and nothing but excitement for the future despite the burning pain in his wrist. It didn’t hurt now, but it was still strange to look at, a forgien intruder in his skin. The only thing familiar about it was the ‘1’, sitting perfectly within the umbrella.

Their numbers were _inked_ into their skin, how could the others think they could escape from that?

He pressed his nail into the umbrella, right over the 1, and the sting of pain made him feel slightly better for a second.

They all jumped as someone knocked on the door.

“Hargreeves? Are you all in there?” it was Marigold, and they all immediately tensed, knowing exactly what she was here for. She faltered, smile slipping off her face slightly. She knew why they were scared of her, One didn’t know if she cared though. “One, Seven, can you two come with me? There’s someone who wants to meet you.”

* * *

Four had never been alone in his life.

He knows it’s not something most people can say, everyone, at some point is left in a room by themselves, or wanders off to think for a few minutes, except for him.

He was constantly surrounded by ghosts, wailing, crying, begging for him to help them, and he had six siblings as well, and he only ever got an hour on Saturdays where he wasn't obligated to train or study with them. Three of them even tolerated his presence.

despite how much he tried to hide it, it just all got _too much_ sometimes, and all he wanted to do was curl up in his bed, and get some peace and quiet for once in his life. Despite never being alone, Four had been _lonely_. It was hard not to be, when the others yelled at him for being too much, and all the ghosts ever wanted from him was help he couldn’t give.

He thought he knew loneliness when they were taken away from everything they had ever known and thrust in a strange new world, he thought he knew loneliness when his siblings, his best friends were taken away from them.

But nothing, nothing beat the utter _crushing_ realisation that he was on his _own_ for the first time in his life as the car drove his last remaining siblings away.

Four was alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> after rewatching tua, I have come to the unfortunate realisation that their tattoos don't actually have their numbers on them,,,,,,whoops. guess that's canon for this fic now ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAA it's here! just one pov this time, five and ben were brats who demanded all the screen time >:(

They’ve been here for _six weeks_ and he _still_ hasn’t heard anything about the promised weekly visits with their siblings. Though he knew he shouldn’t have trusted the adults from the start, all they have ever done was lie and hurt him and the others, so there was no reason why he should be so _upset_ once it finally clicked–much later than it should’ve for someone as smart as he was– that the weekly visits weren’t going to happen. He had no idea when he’d see the others again. 

But he should have known that from the start. He wasn’t as stupid as the others were, he knew how the world worked, how much people lied, he should have expected this, should have planned for it. If he had, maybe he could’ve worked harder on convincing them about his time travelling idea, he could have somehow put off his fostering until the others were already gone. That way he would’ve had at least _some_ idea about where his siblings were, he could’ve gotten them all back together. 

But no, he was dumb, trusting, and now they were all paying the price for it. It still might be possible to get their whereabouts, they might even still be at the group home. He couldn’t check, though he didn’t know where it was, and his _useless_ guardian was no help. 

They haven’t been out in public yet, which wasn’t foreign to either Five or Six, they were only allowed out for missions and personal training back at home, and at the group home, outside was too overwhelming for most of them to even want to go out. But both the academy and the group home had plenty of things to do inside, as well as the buildings themselves being pretty large. He guessed. That was what all the adults said, anyway. 

So in comparison to the size of the only two places he’d ever lived, staying inside in a home that only had nine rooms (he counted), was… an adjustment to say the least. 

He was trapped here. It was too small but if he tried going outside, he didn’t doubt he’d find it too overwhelming. He didn’t go into a panic attack like the others did, but he couldn’t deny the way being outside made his heart pound and his chest tighten. He needed to do _something_ , try to find his siblings, work on escaping, _something_ , but there wasn’t anything he could do. He was _useless_ just sitting here, waiting like a child for the adults to do everything for him. 

He belatedly wondered if their foster mother were torturing him. 

“She’s not torturing you, there’s plenty to do here, just not for a weirdo like you.”

He glared at Six, who was quietly reading a book on his bed. They had their own rooms here, but there was no way Five was going to leave Six on his own where their foster mother could hurt him. “You don’t know anything about what she wants from us. She could be planning to cut you open to find the horror and we would have no idea.”

“... I really doubt that." Six glanced over his book to give him an incredulous expression, “Look, I don't doubt that she might be trouble, but you were _just_ complaining that her house is too small. Where would she even fit a lab?” Five scowled. 

“You know what I mean." He bit out and teleported to the other side of the room, just to get some energy out, and the fact that he ended up mostly where he intended to go didn’t even make him feel that better. “You like her too much, you’re treating her like she’s Mom. She’s _not.”_

“I know she isn’t!” Six hissed, finally putting down his book. “And I don’t like her! She’s just. Friendly. It’s nice to talk to someone friendly for once.”

Five rolled his eyes, ignoring Six’s jab at his personality. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter if she’s friendly or not, what matters is getting away and finding the others.”

Six went quiet at that, and Five held back a sigh. Regardless of their opinion of their guardian, they both wanted to be back with their siblings. Having no choice but to leave them behind had got to be one of the worst experiences of Five’s life, and that was including Dad’s training. He _had_ to get back to them. Somehow. He was still kind of unsure how to actually _do_ that but Five would figure it out. He always did, and the others were relying on him.

There was a knock on Six’s bedroom door, and they both automatically tensed. When it was Margaret who poked her head through the door instead of Carol coming to inform them that he and Six would have to be separated now, or someone even worse– he glared, crossing his arms at her. Margaret as usual, stayed infuriatingly calm, smiling gently instead of getting mad. 

“Oh, good you’re both here." She said, her voice light and calm, and Five gritted his teeth. Nice and calm voices never meant anything good. Look at what Carol did to them. “I've noticed you’ve been a bit…” she blinked as Five teleported again, his nervous energy getting worse with her in the room. “Restless. I thought that since Six had already read all of his books we could go to the library?”

Predictably, Six lit up. “ _Really_? Uh." He glanced over at Five, their conversation still fresh in his mind. “I mean. If you would like us too, Margaret.”

Her smile dimmed slightly, probably disappointed that Six wasn’t playing along to whatever game she was puppeteering. Hopefully she wouldn’t take it out on him later, Five might have to stick around with Six a bit more in case she was. 

But nonetheless, her smile returned with a vengeance, and she gestured for them to follow her. “I would love for you two to come to the library with me, it’s one of my favourite places to be.” Clearly this was some sort of psychological mind trick designed to drive him and Six apart, because she had already won over his brother who was trailing behind her with starry eyes.

“I've never been to a library." He breathed, “i mean, we had one at home, but the books were all super old and boring. I bet I practically read half of them." Five squinted suspiciously. They were getting too close for Five’s comfort, so he pushed himself in between Six and Margaret, ignoring Six’s protests and glaring hard at her. She didn’t look in the slightest intimidated. 

Instead of getting angry and punishing him, Margaret smiled past him at Six “That must be a lot!” she said, as if nothing happened, which was met with Six’s hesitant nod. 

“Uh, yeah, I love reading, I just never get any time to." Six ignored Five’s warning stares, shyly smiling at Margaret as if she wasn’t _dangerous._ “At least, not at home, I have too much time now. I've read all my books five times.”

“Well, don’t worry, there’s plenty more new, interesting books at the library, and you’ll have enough time to read them all, I promise. Five, darling, are you coming?” she asked, even though he was walking to the car with them. He shoved his hands in his pockets. 

“There’s no way I'm leaving him alone with _you_." He snarled, vaguely impressed that she didn’t even flinch. He pushed down the urge to teleport to the car when Six barely even scolded him, instead talking about books again with Margaret like a _nerd._

* * *

“Oh my god…” Ben breathed, almost sounding like he’d just learned the secrets of the universe itself as they stood at the entrance of the library, which was practically covered wall to wall with books. He blinked. It was… bigger than he was expecting. Bigger than any library he’d ever seen, but he guessed that wasn’t saying much, since he’d only ever seen two libraries in his life. The one Dad owned, and the ‘library’ at the group home which was nothing but a shelf full of torn and scribbled over books.

This place was different from either of the libraries he knew. It wasn’t old looking, or messy, it actually looked… like a friendly place? Five didn’t even know places could be friendly. There weren’t even that many people here either, because the holidays were over. Margaret refused to send them to school, though. Something stupid about their ‘undeveloped immune systems’ that Five refused to listen to. 

Ms Millar ushered them on, guiding them to a more colourful, secluded part of the library, and when Five shoved her hand off his shoulder, she didn’t even grab his arm in anger. _Christ_ , was this woman even human? Dad wasn’t, and he would punish Five ten times over for such a blatant display of disrespect. Her lack of anger made Five’s insides churn. The other shoe had to drop _eventually_.

“I'm gonna leave you two in the kid’s section, okay? If you need me I'll be in the romance section." She pointed at a part of the library that looked like every other part of the library, but one of the bookcases had a sign conveniently labeled _romance section._ Five had no idea what romance could possibly be doing in a library, or why it deserved its own section.“Is that alright with you?”

Six enthusiastically nodded, but the idea of spending the day in a room full of books wasn’t Five’s idea of fun. It wasn’t like he’d get a say anyway, Margaret had clearly already chosen a favourite to dote on, like Dad did with One. Hopefully that meant she would be easier on Six when they messed up, though Five knew very well that being the favourite didn’t guarantee safety. Look what happened with One.

“Five?” he gritted his teeth when his heart spiked. He hated that he was scared of her. He had been trained all his life how to kill people. _She_ should be afraid of him!

“ _What?_ ”

“Are you alright with staying in the kid’s section? I can stay if you want.”

“No." The only thing worse than spending all day bored in a library is spending all day agonisingly tense in a library, with his guardian stalking, ready to pounce once he inevitably did something wrong. 

Margaret smiled, and made her way to the other side of the library. She was close enough that Five could keep an eye on her, but far away enough that he didn’t feel like she was an immediate threat. It made him feel way better than it should. No doubt a calculated move on her end to make him lower his guard. 

“Five, look at all these books!” Six grabbed his wrist, immediately dragging them both over to one of the dozens of bookcases, looking a little overwhelmed. Five grabbed a book from off the shelf and turned it over, reading the blurb. A young boy scored a ticket, went to a chocolate factory, and won the company? Cute, but Five was pretty sure that it was completely unrealistic. He never understood why Six liked to hide from the world with books full of nonsense. What was the point in trying to escape real life through a fantasy world when all that time reading could be spent actually trying to escape their troubles?

Six had already grabbed an armful of books, and was hiding in a corner with his nose buried deep in its pages. The sight made him feel better, he liked seeing the others happy, especially since all that happened had reduced Six to an even quieter, smaller version of himself. Almost like Seven, Five thought with a pang, and then shook the thought off. 

It didn’t work. With Seven came thoughts of the others, and then thoughts of _Carol_. Anger and longing warred for dominance, and he dug his fingers in his arm, letting the pain clear his head. He was emotionless and calculating. _Emotionless_ and _calculating_. It was harder to get hurt that way. He took a deep breath in and opened up his eyes again. 

The joyful, childish books taunted him. 

He made his way over to Six, who was already about a quarter of the way through his first book. He blinked as Five approached. “Oh, hey, Five. Have you found any good books yet?”

“No, not really. You know I don’t like books as much as you.”

“You should still find something, there’s so many!” Six leaned forwards, his eyes wide. “I've never seen so many books in my life. Only…”

He raised an eyebrow. “what?”

Six sighed, putting down his book, “It’s stupid. They’re just too easy. I've been reading books harder than this since I was eight.”

Five sighed. As catches came, he was glad that it was just the books being below his brother’s reading level, rather than something worse, but still. They just couldn’t have anything good, could they? “We could try the adult’s section,” he offered. 

Six’s head snapped up. “Margaret told us to stay in the kid’s section. If we try to leave we’d probably get punished.”

He had a point, their foster mother _did_ put a lot of emphasis on them staying here, though the idea of both of them being bored in a library was even worse than just Five being bored in the library. He made to cross his arms, but a sign caught his eye. 

“Hey, does that mean what I think it means?”

“Non-fiction? It’s just facts and stuff, not stories. You’d like it, there’s math and science books." Tilting his head thoughtfully, he wandered over to the bookcases and pulled out a promising looking book. Just as he suspected, it was way too easy, worded simply like it was written for toddlers. It was almost insulting, even though Five knew he was smarter than everyone. Normal kids couldn’t be _that_ dumb could they? Even his siblings would find this pathetically easy. 

Maybe there would be some books in the adult’s section about quantum physics? If– _when_ he saw the others again, he’d need to be ready. Sure, he was still bitter that his time travel idea was shot down so fast, but after actually living the horrible decision to let the adults just tear them apart, he was sure that the others would listen to his idea. It was better than just running off to the streets anyway, Dad would find them in no time. 

Well. He might be punished for leaving the kid’s section, but some things were worth breaking the rules for. Figuring that he would already be in trouble anyway, he raised his fists, tightening them as space started to warp around them.

“Five!” he grunted as Six attached himself to him, “what are you doing? We’re not allowed to use our powers in public, remember?”

He rolled his eyes. “ _Pogo_ said that, and he’s not here. It won’t be for long, anway, I just need to check out something in the adult’s section.”

Six blinked, “what could be so important that you’ll disobey direct orders? Margaret isn’t One, or Mom, Five, she could really hurt us!”

“I thought you liked her,” he growled.

Six shrugged, shaking his head. “I don’t know, I don’t know what I think of her. Just don’t risk it, okay? What do you even want to do anyway?”

Five sighed, gritting his teeth. “If you _have_ to know, I want to get a book that could help me with the time travel equations.”

Six blanched. “Seriously? You’re still working on that?”

“It’s better than what _you’re_ doing." He snapped, defensively crossing his arms. “You’re just sitting around hoping that Margaret won’t hurt us. At least I'm actually going to do something.”

“It’s just,” Six blinked, shaking his head, “it’s just, how would it even work? Okay, so you figured out how to time travel even though you still can’t teleport properly, how would you even find the others? Where would we go?”

“I'll practice! And– and I'll figure it out, okay? I always do, I'm smart, I _know_ there’s a way." He’d do it, he _would_. Sure, the idea of somehow trying to accomplish all these impossible tasks made his heart beat hard and his chest tighten with each breath he took. He was smart, he could do anything. Dad said so.

There was silence, and Five guessed that Six had accepted his explanation, so he raised his hands, ready to teleport again. 

He flinched as he felt a hand grip the crook of his arm. 

“Fine,” Six said, looking more confident than Five had seen him in ages. “I guess you’re right, your crazy idea _is_ better than nothing. It’s better than not seeing the others again." Six looked down, tightening his grip on Five’s arm. “I don’t think it’ll work, but I'm going to help.”

He bristled, pulling at his arm, “no way, I'm not letting you get in trouble! You can stay here, it’ll look less suspicious if one of us is here anyway,” He chanced a glance at where Margaret was, but thankfully, she was out of sight, but he knew better than to think that meant they weren’t being watched. 

“Nope, I'm not letting you do this on your own. Knowing you, you’ll fight the first person who comes across you because they looked at you the wrong way. Anyway, you’re not my babysitter. I want to find the others too.”

Five looked into Six’s eyes, and sighed when there was no resistance there. It was easy to forget, what with how quiet Six was, how stubborn he could be. “Fine." He bit out, readying to teleport yet again, finding a weak spot in the space between here and where he wanted to go, and _pulling_ him and Six through.

It worked, mostly. They ended _way_ further than Five originally meant to go, several floors higher than he meant to go, actually. 

Six stumbled, rubbing his head as the headache that came with being teleported came on. “wow, you really _do_ need to practice, we’re way further that we should be!”

Five bristled. “I'm _rusty._ Not that it’s my fault." He sighed, turning around, and smiled as his eyes caught on a sign. “Anyway, I bet we’re exactly where we want to be.”

Six blinked up at the _adults' non-fiction_ sign above their heads. “You were just lucky,” he huffed, “and we still need to find the math and science section. If we’re fast, Margaret might not even catch us.”

“Why are there so many sections? How hard would it be to put everything in one place?” 

Six shrugged, and wandered off as Five walked down the bookcases, reading the little signs about the subjects of the books they held, quickly finding the math and science section, luckily the books in both of the subjects looking much more his speed. 

After pulling out a few interesting looking books he’d have to read later, he came across a book titled _quantum physics._ Quickly opening it, a quick skim proved what he’d thought. This book was _full_ of the stuff that Dad would never teach him because ‘he wasn’t ready’ or some crap like that. He scrambled for his notebook, pleased as hell that he remembered to bring it along, and scribbled down some notes that might actually be useful in helping him finally crack the stupid problem. It’d still take him a while, maybe a few months, but in things like these every little thing helped. Maybe–

“Five!” 

He jumped, gritting his teeth at his own weakness. “ _What?_ Can’t you see that I'm busy?”

“You want to find the others, right?”

He blinked. “Uh. Yeah?”

Six waved him over, standing next to a table covered in strange white square boxes. “I think I found some computers. Maybe we could use them to find the others!”

“I thought you thought it was impossible to find the others." He murmured as he walked over, looking at Six carefully, who swallowed. 

“It’s…” he sighed. “I don’t know. It’s complicated. We’re not normal, we can do tons of stuff that ordinary kids can’t, but...It just feels impossible. We have no idea where they are or if they’re all separated or kept together, or, or if they’re even–” Six cut himself off and Five was glad. He knew what he was going to say, and– he didn’t know what the possibility of one of the others being unsafe in their homes were, he had a feeling that foster care wasn’t as safe as all the adults made it out to be, despite their guardian playing nice for now, but the idea that one of them could be–

It wasn’t worth thinking about. “I'll find them,” he said, “and I'll figure out how to time travel so we can be safe from Dad." He swallowed. “I promise.”

Six nodded, “okay. Okay." A few seconds, and Five noticed that Six was blinking away tears. He pretended to not have noticed. “Well. I just thought the computers might help, it’s better than nothing, right?”

He blinked and nodded, pretending that he didn’t feel so overwhelmed anymore as he swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat. “Okay. That's good. So, they’re computers?” he pointed at one of the white boxes on the table they were standing next to.

Six nodded, “yeah, I've never seen one before, obviously, but I've seen them on tv and I think I read about them in a book once? You use the mouse–” he pointed at a semi circle thing that looked absolutely nothing like a rodent, “to click things in the computer. You can type words with the keyboard to ask it questions. It bet it’ll know where the others are.”

Five made a face. Granted, he didn’t watch as much tv as the others and had actually never seen a computer in action but he _seriously_ doubted this hunk of plastic would know anything about his siblings.

Six saw his face and sighed. “Just give it a try. The only other option is to somehow find Marigold or Carol, and we’ll _definitely_ be punished if we try that.”

“Hmm,” he hummed, trying to figure out how to make the computer work, “and without Three we’d never get anything out of them anyway." Dad had taught them how to handle torture and interrogation when they were kids, but Dad said they had to wait until they were older before they learnt how to do the interrogating and torture, and well. That wouldn’t be happening anytime soon. 

Pressing a few buttons until the tiny black screen lit up, he messed with the keys and the round thing–the mouse, he guessed, clicking until he reached a blank page with colourful letters spelling out ‘google’. He blinked. “What the hell is this?” Six shrugged, and he sighed. There were instructions above a long white rectangle, suggesting that he ‘enter his search terms, or browse by category’ he had no idea what that last part meant, but they _were_ looking for their siblings, so…

He painstakingly typed in the first name that came into his head _Number Seven_. All that came up was information about the literal number seven. 

“Maybe add our last name?”

He added Hargreeves to the end, and scrolled down to see the results. 

_Hargreeves hiding mystery seventh child? Click here to find out more!_

_Human trafficking: the dark secret behind the ‘aquirement’ of the hargreeves children._

_Hargreeves’ bail approved, despite public outrage._

_The Supreme Court declares Hargreeves holds no claim over the children: read more to find out why._

They blinked at all the search results, “What the hell is _this?_ ” he gestured at the screen. “This isn’t what we asked!”

“Human trafficking? And why is Seven a mystery? Doesn’t everyone know about her?”

“I'm more interested in Dad’s court case." He murmured, leaning in to read the little words on the screen better. So Dad got out of whatever trouble he got in when they were gone. What did that mean for them? If he managed to get out of his trial, then would he go after them? Could he? What did _not having any claim over them_ even mean?

“There you are!”

Five didn’t scream, but Six definitely yelped, and when Six was scared the Horror was scared, and when the Horror was scared there tended to be a _lot_ of dead bodies.

Without thinking, he leapt in front of Six, brandishing a pair scissors he wasn’t even sure where he got. It felt like a bucket of cold water was spilled over his head as soon as he realised who it was. 

“Margaret,“ he forced out, his body locked in place. She looked calm, not angry and her hands were held up peacefully instead of winding back to hit, but that didn’t mean anything, that didn’t mean anything–

“Hey,” she murmured, his voice calm and soft, and Five hated that he wanted to listen to it. “It’s okay, I promise, I'm not going to hurt you. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have sneaked up on you like that. Are you okay?”

Five’s words were stuck in his throat, and the scissors felt like they were going to cut into his skin. He should be attacking, he should be running away, he should be doing anything that wasn’t freezing into place, trembling like a coward.

“We’re sorry." Six suddenly spoke up, his voice strained and scared, and his arms tight around his stomach. “It was my fault, we just wanted to find out where the others were, it’s our fault.”

“ _Shut. Up." H_ e hissed, resisting the urge to kick Six’s shin from behind him. Somehow he didn’t think that Margaret would like that so much. 

She blinked. “Looking for your siblings? How could you do that from–” she spotted the computers behind them, and the screen innocently ripping down any argument they could make for themselves. “Ah. I see.”

The anger that had gotten swallowed up in fear returned, and that was good, he knew how to function when he was angry. “Where _are_ they?” he snarled. Margaret blinked.

“Excuse me?”

“You know who I'm talking about. The others, where are they?”

She sighed. “I don’t know, Five–”

“Stop lying!” His voice came out louder than intended, fear threatening to suffocate him again. “You’re an adult so you have to know where they are! Tell Me!”

“Five, calm down, what’s wrong with you?” Six came up behind him, looking confused and scared, and Five gritted his teeth.

“There’s nothing _wrong_ with me,” he hissed. 

“He’s right, there isn’t anything wrong with you, you’re just scared and overwhelmed. Remember what your therapist said to do when you feel like this? You need to breathe–”

“I'm _not_ scared! I never get scared, just tell me where the others are!”

“I don’t know where they are,” she replied, her voice calm and still. “I asked Carol about them many times when I was calling about the weekly visits, but it was only legal for her to tell me so much. I'm sure they’re safe and happy, and I'm still working on finding a way you all can communicate.”

“No,” he shook his head. “No, you’re lying, you’re lying.”

“You’re trying to find a way for us to see them?” Six asked, voice small and tentative. Margaret nodded. 

“I'm trying to find a way for you all to interact.”

“Just take us to see them,” he growled, and Margaret sighed. 

“It isn’t as simple as that. Adults make everything complicated, it isn’t as simple as asking Carol where they are and driving you to see them.”

“That’s so unfair, it _should_ be. I just wanna see the others again." To his utter shame and horror, his voice cracked with emotion as something hot and wet trailed down his cheek. He was being weak, he was being _weak._ He quickly turned to face away from them, furiously wiping his eyes of any trace of tears. His heart leapt into his throat when he realised that he’d left Six open to Margaret, but their muffled quiet conversation, partly drowned out by the buzzing in his ears told him that there wasn’t any immediate threat.

“Are you alright, Six?”

“Yea–yeah, I'm fine.”

“Okay. Why don’t you find some books that you can take out, and then we can leave? We’ve all had an eventful day.”

“Five?” he didn’t answer, remaining faced away, holding himself tight. “Five, I'm going to–”

“I _heard._ I'm not deaf.”

A beat of silence, and then Six’s quick footsteps growing quieter as he left. His heartbeat quickened as he realised who he was left with.

“Five,” he– he didn’t flinch, he _tensed_ there was a difference, and after a beat, he opened his eyes to see Margaret holding out her hand.

“What?”

“I said, can you please give me the scissors?” he blinked down at his hand, not even realising that he still had them. Reluctantly, he handed them over, and Margaret returned them to the table where they originally went. “Five,” she started, sighing. “I'm sorry that I scared you, I wasn't thinking, and you paid the price for it. How are you feeling?”

He bristled. “What do you care?”

She looked at him, calm and unmoving as always. For once, it was calming. “I care about you, because I'm your foster mother. You’re my responsibility, and I just want to see you adjusting well." She shifted when he didn’t answer and sighed. “I will ask Carol more about seeing your siblings. Maybe phone calls? I can’t imagine any of the parents having issues with that.”

He shrugged, refusing to get his hopes up, and luckily Six came back before things got too awkward. They took out the books, the librarian making small talk with Margaret, before they climbed into the car. 

“Seatbelts” Margaret reminded them after a beat, and they both quickly put them on. Seatbelts were still hard to remember to put on, and Five still wasn’t sure _why_ it was so important. It didn’t matter, anyway.

The drive home was in silence, so when they were about halfway there, Six gently nudging him on the arm got his attention. “Hey, Five. Look what I have." Six lifted the bag containing the books to reveal the _quantum physics_ book Five was looking at earlier. He swallowed past the lump in his throat.

“Thanks." He choked out, and Six gave a hesitant smile. Maybe things weren’t as bad as he thought. He still needed to figure out time travel and get the others, but maybe he didn’t have to watch his back as much as he thought. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> was the breather from all the angst nice? sdfhgfds don't worry, the other kid's homes will be,,,,, worse? better? guess we'll have to see. and! since I split the original chapter in half the next update should hopefully come faster! 👀 and hopefully with more than one pov asdfhgfds


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here it is!!! prepare to get your heart ripped out
> 
> content warnings at the end of the chapters, as well as a potentially triggering new character

“Aww look at you two! Oh, just hold on for a second, let me get my camera!”

Diego squirmed as Mrs Williams ran off, in search of a camera to document their first day at school. Allison stood proudly, showing off her new school uniform with pride. He could barely see the strain in her smile as Mrs Williams’ camera flashed, blinding them briefly. Three was becoming a better actor.

“Darling, should you be doing that?” Mr Williams asked, his smile timid and perfect. “Carol gave us explicit instructions to keep the children out of the public eye as much as possible–”

“Oh, hush darling, it’s not as if I'm going to print it in the community newspaper! I just want to capture our darling’s first day! Micheal, smile a bit won’t you?”

Diego scowled instead. That wasn’t his name, but she didn’t care. According to her, their numbers were ‘just terrible reminders of how dehumanised they used to be’ and that the names Mom gave them were ‘another link to your horrible past, surely you don’t want to remember that?’ It wasn’t like he could tell her that he _did_ want mom’s names anyway, Mrs Williams would make him restart his sentence everytime he stuttered, in an effort to make him stop attention seeking and break him out of the habit of stuttering. It didn’t _feel_ like a habit, it wasn’t like he woke up one day and decided to make talking harder than it already was, but Mrs Williams was so convinced it was, it must be true. He didn’t bother talking much anymore.

Allison smiled, looking proud and excited to anyone who wasn’t Diego. “I don’t mind! The first day of school is always important to remember." The adults cooed at her perfect reply as Mrs Williams told him to smile again, this time there was no room for debate. Forcing a smile, he was reminded of their first mission, of how sad Ben looked covered in blood while the camera flashed in their faces, immortalising their stiff, painful grins.

The memory made his stomach churn, and he couldn’t figure out why, and he didn’t really want to. He stayed quiet as their foster parents gushed over them. They tried to force him to say how happy he was about his first day at a ‘real’ school, and then they got angry when he couldn’t say it without stuttering.

“I swear, you’re doing this on purpose.” Mrs Williams muttered, her nails biting into his skin.

“I–I–I–I'm–m n–no–” she raised her hand and he flinched, hard, blushing almost immediately when he realised that she wasn’t going to hit him. Sometimes she did that as a warning, pretending she was going to hit them. Diego didn’t know why he flinched so hard every time, her slaps were nothing compared to Dad’s.

Heart still beating hard, he let himself get hurried into the car, barely remembering to buckle himself in time, and he didn’t even scowl at their foster parent’s faces when they cheerfully wished them a good first day.

Diego wasn’t sure if Allison had heard the hidden _‘or else,’_ underneath their words. He didn’t know if she really bought into the whole ‘perfect family’ image their foster parents worked so hard to maintain, or she had just convinced herself she did. The Allison he knew would only be playing along for survival, but the Allison he knew also wouldn’t abandon their siblings when they needed each other the most.

In his head, the sister that he grew up with, Number Three, was becoming a different person to the sister he lived with now, Allison, and he hated it. He _knew_ that Allison was Three, just like Three was Allison, but he couldn’t deny that thinking of Allison as someone different to his sister he knew and loved made it sting just a little less when Allison didn’t defend him, refusing to have his back.

He walked with her into the school building, and he could immediately tell school was going to be _horrible._ The group home had its fair share of people, more than Diego’s ever been around in his life, but they got used to it pretty fast. Once their novelty wore off, the other kids mostly left them alone, though Five beating up a kid for talking to their sister might have also helped.

But there were far more kids at school than at the group home, and they all seemed to be staring at them as they hesitantly shuffled through the hallways. Diego glared at anyone who stared and Allison held her head high. He almost thought she didn’t even care until she huffed.

“I heard a rumour you all stopped staring at us!” The eyes boring into them turned white, and suddenly all the eyes on them vanished, the other students going back to their day. Despite that, the tense feeling in the air didn’t leave with it. It was like they had walked into the whole school talking about them, but what was so interesting about them that people would talk about them?

A shrill ring filled the air, and both Allison and Diego jumped, breaths hitching. It sounded so much like the bell that woke them all up for their mission, but the other children didn’t seem upset or scared, they all just hurried off in different directions, disappearing behind doors and hallways.

Diego itched to use his voice, to ask his sister what the hell was that all about? But the thought of speaking made his throat constrict, Mrs Williams’ light, venomous voice warning him to _don’t stutter don’t stutter don’t stutter–_

He blinked. Allison was already gone. A pang of hurt spread through his chest when he realised that she didn’t even bother to tell him where she was going, or what the alarm was even for. Or maybe he was supposed to know. Did Mrs Williams tell them? Did he zone out again? Was he really so stupid and lazy that he couldn’t even pay attention for long enough to hear simple instructions?

He tightened his grip on his schedule, setting off in a random direction. He wondered if the sudden emptiness of the hallways meant he wasn’t supposed to be here. If he was caught would he get in trouble? What would the punishment be? They had only been here a few weeks, and while Diego had gotten slapped and locked in his room for minor offences, like threatening Allison with his knife when she made to rumour him, they still didn’t know what _real_ punishments were like. Was wondering the halls when he wasn’t supposed to grounds for a real punishment? Dad didn’t like it, but everything was so different out here than it was back home. Nothing made any sense and soon enough he was going to mess up bad enough to get really hurt.

His chest was starting to get tight and the air suddenly felt thin. The world was rushing around him so when a gentle hand touched his shoulder, it wasn’t his fault that he jumped about a foot in the air, screaming like a girl.

“Hey, calm down! I wasn’t gonna hurt you!”

Panting hard, he was a little insulted at the idea that the girl standing in front of him, who _was_ taller than him, but definitely not stronger, could hurt him. Well, maybe she could, Diego’s knife had long been confiscated, and he hadn’t had the chance to steal a suitable replacement from the kitchen yet. He felt naked without it.

The girl hesitated slightly when he didn’t relax from his defensive pose, but she smiled and stuck out her hand anyway. “My name is Eudora, and when you didn’t arrive in time the teacher thought that you might be lost, so he sent me to find you. Looks like he was right.”

He glared, ignoring her offered hand –why were handshakes so important anyway? It made them incredibly vulnerable for an attack, if Diego needed to flip them to the ground. Eudora raised her eyebrow. “You know, you’re supposed to shake it. Like this." She grabbed his hand and moved it up and down for no reason. He snatched it out of her grip and glared at her venomously.

“I–I–I–I kn–kno–” he cut himself off before he could embarrass himself further, Mrs’ Williams’ scolding voice yet again drawing out Mom’s gentle patient one. His chest tightened as he thought of her. He hoped she was okay all alone with Dad. He missed her so, so much.

Eudora blinked at him, then huffed. “You’re weird. What’s your name?” he blinked in surprise at the insult and the question lumped into one sentence and didn’t even think when he started to stutter, “n–n–nnn–nnum–”

“Nnnnum?” Eudora’s eyebrows furrowed. “ _Oh_ , you have a stutter don’t you? My sister used to have a stutter, but she moved out a while ago, so I don’t know if she still has it. It’s fine that you can’t tell me your name, anyway, I'll find out later when Mr Peterson does the role call. You don’t have to talk for that by the way, the teacher doesn’t mind if you just grunt, as long as you prove you’re there. Do you have any brothers or sisters? I have three brothers, and one sister and they're _so_ annoying–”

He followed her to their class in a daze as she talked on and on, she reminded him of Klaus in sheer talkative factor, though luckily that was where the similarities ended. If she had been more similar to his brother then Diego wasn’t sure if he would have been able to hold back the tears left over from his panic.

She led him to their class, where he was met with their teacher, who made him shake his hand, a warm smile on his face.

“It’s nice to meet you, Michael,” he said, ignorant of the way Diego bristled at his not-name. “I'm Mr Peterson. Don’t worry about getting lost. Your mom told me that today’s your time going to school. But don’t let it happen again, alright?” That last part was definitely a threat, but Diego couldn’t find himself to care much as he was still hung up on Mrs Williams being called his mom. He snatched his hand back and sat in the empty seat furthest away from Mr Peterson, staring intently at his desk and ignoring the stares and whispers that he had no doubt was about him. He wished Three was here to rumour them away.

Despite the bumpy start, the class itself was easy. _Way_ too easy. It was stuff he had learnt years ago, and the teacher glared at him when he asked for a harder worksheet, telling him off for trying to skip classwork. Now he didn’t want to work on the sheet out of pure spite, so instead he carved his desk with a pin he found on the ground. The next class was pretty much the same, only this time there wasn’t Eudora to glare at the kids who whispered behind his back. That was fine, he didn’t care. He was scary enough that all he had to do was glare and they’d look away.

He pretended he didn’t feel a bit upset that everyone was so intimidated by him. It was good, it meant that he didn’t have to waste his energy on frivolous fights, as Dad would say.

The other classes were a gamble. PE was stressful, the gym looking almost exactly like the room Dad made them do their group training in. He had been on guard and tense the whole time, waiting for the teacher to declare it sparring time. It never came, but that didn’t mean he was safe. It never did. His other classes after that were art and music, and it was… difficult. The art teacher had encouraged them to draw a scenery of something they found beautiful, so he drew one of the paintings Mom liked to look at when she was charging, but when he showed it to the teacher she made a face and told him she meant that he had to draw a landscape of a field, or a city skyline or something like that. Diego carved holes in his eraser with his pen for the rest of the class.

Music class was humiliating, the room was full of unfamiliar equipment, and the only thing he recognised was the piano, and the violin, which reminded him of his sister so much that it ached. The teacher had put him on an ‘easy’ instrument to start out, and the whole class laughed at him when he had to stutter out that he didn’t know how a keyboard worked. Eudora defended him, though. She always came to his rescue. He didn’t know what to think of it, he’d never really interacted with a kid other than his siblings, and any interactions he did have were usually unpleasant or confusing. Even if the kids didn’t want to make fun of him, he was still just too _weird_ for them to deal with. He didn’t get any of the references they made, and he misinterpreted too many important things.

But Eudora didn’t seem to care. She happily explained to him any references that he didn’t understand, and she didn’t laugh when he got one of the million secret rules for social interaction wrong. But he didn’t know _why_ she was following him around, or what was her goal. Was she spying on him? Was she getting his guard down so she could attack later? That was what the cynical, trained soldier part of him kept insisting, but a quieter, lonely part of him noticed that no one tried to get her to spend time with them instead of him. Maybe she didn’t have any friends. Maybe she was as lonely as him. He found it hard to believe though. There was no way someone as cool as Eudora could be lonely.

Overall, it was an upsetting, confusing, and tiring day. Eudora cheerfully waved him goodbye when they walked out of the school building, unfazed when he forgot to wave back, and cheerfully ran to her car to hug a woman standing next to a car. He blinked. Was that Eudora’s Mom? She looked so nice, so soft, so… alive. Did his Mom look alive? He was sure she did, but his memories of her were starting to get ever so slightly fuzzy, and some of the others always insisted she didn’t look alive.

He swallowed back a lump, watching Eudora’s Mom kiss her on the forehead. Did Mom even miss them? _Could_ she miss them?

He didn’t want to think about it. He would see Mom again soon and he would be able to ask her, so it wasn’t worth thinking about. He swiftly turned around, harshly pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes, as if he could wipe away the embarrassment with it. When he opened his eyes, it took a while, but through the blurriness, he spotted his sister.

She was standing behind a corner, and if Diego didn’t know any better, he would say it was almost like she was hiding. He sighed, making his way over to her so that their foster parents could pick them up and ask all sorts of perfect questions about their day, and his sister could give perfect answers. He faltered as he got closer, realising that his sister looked like she was… crying? But why? Was someone mean to her? Did someone hurt her?

He jogged the rest of the way, grabbing her shoulder to confirm that, yes she was crying. She blinked up at him and sighed, wiping her eyes. “Go away, Two." She sniffed, and Diego gritted his teeth.

“W–w–w–wh–why–” he grunted in frustration, but Allison knew what he was asking.

“It’s none of your business.”

“I–I–It is–s–s,” he gritted out, ignoring the way his throat clenched as he thought how stupid he must look to his sister. Mrs Williams’s voice admonishing him for not trying harder was ringing throughout his head. Why couldn’t he speak? Why was he so dumb and lazy that he couldn’t even get a word out? Tears of his own pricked his eyes, but he refused to let them fall.

Allison hesitated, swallowing back tears, and for a moment Diego thought that she was going to tell him what was wrong. Her face was open. Guarded but open, and it reminded him just a bit of the Three he knew from before they were taken away from home, away from Mom.

But in a second, her face shuttered, and the only remnants of her crying was reddened eyes. “It’s none of your business." She repeated, and he blinked at the sudden change. It was like she had put on a mask. “And anyway, it doesn’t matter, Mrs–Mom’s here to pick us up.”

He turned around and sure enough, Mrs Williams was marching over to them, a stern look on her face that made his stomach freeze. “Kids! What are you doing in the grass? You’ll get sick doing that, come on michael, up,” she grabbed his arm and he flinched in anticipation of a slap. He knew that they were in public, she would never hit him in public, but his body didn’t seem to get the memo, automatically curling in on itself and turning his face away from where she could reach.

Mrs Williams froze, her tightening around his arm until it hurt. He forced himself to look up at her face, which was frozen in a tight grin. Pleasant looking to others, but furious to anyone who knew better. “Calm down, Micheal, you’re not in trouble,” she was using the sickly sweet voice that came out when one of them had a panic attack, or something reminded them of their training, or the mission. Usually it was condescending at worst, but out in public, Diego had no doubt that the voice was a warning.

He nodded, desperately hoping that complying would calm her down, and in a flash, the hand loosened, and Mrs Williams was back to normal. Three looked at him with something almost like concern as they climbed into the car, but he ignored it. If she really cared, she would rumour Mrs William’s to leave them alone.

He swallowed, rubbing his sore arm, and avoiding Mrs William’s cold eyes in the rear view mirror. He was safe for now, at least until they got home.

* * *

It’s been about a week since her and One were forced to abandon their remaining brother at their group home, and it was one of the most painful things that she had ever been forced to do. Hearing Four’s cries as they were driven away had felt like her heart was being ripped out of her chest, and she couldn’t help but wonder. Had the others felt like this too? Did they feel like they were being torn apart, wrenched away from everything they knew?

Her automatic answer was no, of course they didn’t. Her siblings were so strong and brave that leaving each other with no idea if they’d ever see each other again probably didn’t even bother them in the slightest. But maybe she was wrong. She was wrong about a lot of things these days.

Leaving had hurt _so_ much for Seven. She felt like she was being whittled down, every time one of the others were taken away it was like they took a part of her with them.

She had no idea if One felt the same way. She had never been close to him, she didn’t know what he was thinking, not like she did with Five. She remembered, as they were driven away, that One’s face was stony, eyes locked on something in the distance that Seven couldn’t see, nodding blankly in response to the ground rules their new guardian was laying down.

He wasn’t sobbing and crying like she was, and he wasn’t using his powers to somehow stop the car, or do _anything_ useful. The most he used his powers was to clench his bag tight in his hands, with a strength that only he possessed. She couldn’t imagine it, having powers, being _special,_ but not using it when it mattered the most.

She wasn’t going to do that. She was going to use her powers to help people, and never, ever take them for granted the way her siblings did every day. _And_ , she wasn’t going to be so stuck up about it like the others were.

It was a little tricky to not take her powers for granted when she didn’t know how to use them. She didn’t even know what they were.

“Seven?” she flinched a little, still taken by surprise whenever someone deemed her worthy to be spoken to. Her foster father smiled at her, and she made herself smile back. He really liked talking at dinner time, which went against everything she and One were taught how dinners were supposed to work. Their foster Dad didn’t seem to care, and was determined to break them of the habit of staying quiet at dinner times. She didn’t know what to feel about it. On one hand, she had always hated the rule. It didn’t make sense, and it left her feeling more alone than ever, so close to her family, but not allowed to even talk to them.

On the other hand, she had no idea how to talk to people that weren’t her siblings, and it was becoming _very_ obvious.

Since there were only two of them, she often found herself in the centre of attention, and instead of being delighted by it as she always thought, she found it was terrifying, and she froze every time. Far too aware that whatever she said could be what sent him over the edge and hit her, or lock her in her room for hours, or take away her violin–

She thinks she likes not talking more than talking. At least that way she wasn’t risking anything.

And the more embarrassing reason that she didn’t want to talk to him was…. Well…

She had completely missed their foster father’s name. She had been too busy panicking over the prospect of leaving again, of leaving Four, and by the time she had calmed down enough, to pay attention to the man who ~~bought~~ fostered them, it was too late. She couldn’t just _ask_ One either. Maybe she could on their first day but they had been here for a _week._ It was _way_ too late now. She just had to hope that One would call him by his name at some point, and then hopefully the intense awkwardness she felt underneath her fear would go away.

Her guardian laughed at her. “Off with the stars? Yeah, I know how that feels. You know, when I was a kid I was _obsessed_ with this comic series called the sparrow academy–”

She listened dully, picking at her food. The refrigerator was buzzing loudly behind them, almost drowning out her foster father’s voice. She wondered if her eyes were playing tricks on her, since it almost looked like the plates and cutlery on the table were vibrating ever so slightly. Her eyes probably were, it wasn’t like anyone here could make stuff vibrate.

She spent the rest of the dinner avoiding eye contact with One, which wasn’t hard, since he was glumly staring at the wooden table, still resentful of their guardian for replacing Dad.

Luckily, dinner was over soon, and her foster father didn’t talk to her again other than to wish her a good night. She quickly prepared herself for bed, awkwardly talking to One until she was free to slink into her room and slide under the covers of her bedsheets. She had her own room here, and it was much bigger than her old one at home. In that room, she could only fit in her desk, her bed, and her violin. The same things looked far too small in her new room. It was lonely.

She had spent the majority of her life sleeping in her own room, so it didn’t make sense why she missed the sounds of her sibling’s breathing so much. Maybe it was because she couldn’t just check the other rooms to see if they were alright. She wasn’t even sure if she would see them ever again.

At least she could hear One’s breathing from her room, it was better than nothing, but it

Wasn’t as comforting as having the sounds of her six siblings in the same room as her. She missed it. Mom wasn’t even here to tuck her in, a fact she had to grow used to when they were first taken into the group home, but stung especially now. She didn’t know why she suddenly wanted her mother to come, after weeks of being mostly okay without her, but all she wanted was mom to give her a hug.

Any hug would do actually, without Four and Three, the more touchy siblings in their family, her daily hugs were now nonexistent. It wasn’t like she could just ask One for a hug. She thinks he would hug her, but it would also be very, very, awkward. For the amount of time the two of them spent together this past week, One unwilling to leave her alone for too long, they just didn’t _click_ with each other. He was One, and she was Seven. They were just too different to get along as easily as they did with the others.

A lump made itself known in her throat, and she tried and failed to swallow it back down, as her chin wobbled. She viciously wiped her eyes. She didn’t like how easy it was to cry now. Back when she had her pills, when something bad happened, she either got angry, or just felt numb. Now she felt _sad._ All the time, no matter what she did. It was so exhausting, and it made her wish _so hard_ for her pills again, just so she could feel calm for once. She didn’t think she’d gotten a moment of peace since her pills ran out.

Except for when she used her powers.

She had only used her powers twice, once when she accidentally exploded the tv when Five and that kid was fighting, and a second time when all of them were fighting, and even in the midst of all chaos, that energy gathering inside her chest, building and building until she couldn’t possibly hold it in more, it was the best she had felt in _forever._

She needed to learn how to do it again, she _needed_ to know what it felt like to be special. She needed to train.

While Dad had made her help him for the others’ group training a lot, he never allowed her along for personal training. The others had never enjoyed it, saying it was scary, horrible, or painful, but Seven was sure that they were making it up. To make her feel better about not having powers, or just for attention, she wasn’t really sure. While some options were more likely for others, they had all made the decision together to spin horror stories about their training just to scare her and leave her out.

Well, she might not know what personal training really was like for them, but she would figure out how to train her powers anyway. She would prove to them that she was special, that she deserved to be one of them as well.

She tentatively slipped out of bed, goosebumps rising in the cold air. She was good at sneaking around, always had been, even when she didn’t mean to. She did it enough that Four liked to joke that she needed a bell so they wouldn’t get jumpscared and hurt her on accident. While the idea felt patronising, the sentiment was sweet, but the memory burned, tainted with Four’s cries as he was left behind.

It didn’t matter, she didn’t know when she would see Four or any of the others again, so she shouldn’t think about it. All that mattered right now was her powers.

Sneaking past One’s room, she looked in, hearing his snores before her eyes adjusted enough to see him still on his bed, sleeping. Good, she didn’t want him finding out about it. He hadn’t mentioned her powers once, and Seven had a feeling that was because he wanted to pretend that she didn’t have any. She didn’t know how he would react to the idea of her training.

The home they were staying at was a very small house, at least in her experience of houses. There were really no spare rooms that she could practice in, whatever practicing was. Maybe going out in the garden would work? Outside still scared her, it was still impossibly overwhelming and huge, but as long as she stayed under the porch, she thought she might be okay.

It was really cold outside, and quiet, ~~she hated the quiet–~~ but it wasn’t enough for her to give up on the whole training idea. What with One insisting on staying by her side all day and their foster father, this was the only time she could.

She stood on the porch, curling her toes into the cold wood, and just…

Stood. What else could she do? How did the others even do this? Was she supposed to stare really hard, or wave her hands around or something?

She shook her head slightly. She wasn’t making it up. She _had_ powers, she just had to figure out how to use them.

She had only used them twice before though, and it only happened because she was trying to stop one of her siblings from fighting. There weren't any fights happening right now. The garden was peaceful.

She was starting to sway where she stood, so she sat down on the porch, cross legged. Tired, her eyes slipped closed, unbidden. Once she really started focusing and listened, it really wasn’t quiet at all. there were so many sounds, all layering over each other like an orchestra. She’d always wanted to go to one, maybe even perform, one distant day, but for now, she was content in this being the closest she could get. The sounds were beautiful, the chirps of crickets and frogs, the trees blowing gently in the wind. She let it all wash over her, turning the sounds in her mind until–

“Seven? What are you doing here?”

She jumped, a sudden burst of wind whipping her hair into her face, and she spluttered, turning to look behind her. It was her foster father, looking around at their surroundings as the wind slowly died down. Her heart jumped when she realised that this was the first time she had been alone with him, with One all the way in bed.

Her foster father blinked, as if suddenly remembering she was there, and sitting down on the porch just out of arm’s reach, which slowed her beating heart ever so slightly.

“Yeah, I like being outside at night too. It’s so quiet and peaceful." She nodded, letting her hair fall over her face. She didn’t like the quiet, and outside was anything but peaceful. Maybe he just didn’t know how to listen properly. “Even so, it’s still way too cold to be outside in just your pajamas. What are you doing out here?”

Her face burned horribly, a red blush climbing up her cheeks. She _hated_ lying, she was so bad at it, flushing and mumbling so badly that she was caught out in moments. She twisted her hands together, and hoped that it was dark enough that he couldn’t see the red of her face. “Nothing,” she mumbled.

“Really? If it were me, I wouldn’t want to be sitting outside in the cold like this. You must have been doing _something._ ”

“Um…” she hesitated, looking at her guardian’s face for any indication of the answer he wanted. She found none. “I was just thinking.”

“Really? What were you thinking about?”

She shrugged. “The others, I guess. I miss them." Four’s cries as her and One left suddenly replayed itself, and she clenched her teeth to bite down the memory.

Her foster father frowned, and her stomach turned to ice. Immediately, she hunched herself over, letting her hair fall in front of her face as she tried to be as invisible as possible. But for whatever reason, he didn’t hit her, or do whatever he was planning to do. Instead he spoke, calm and smooth. “Why would you miss them? From what you told me, they don’t sound like they were very nice to you.”

She swallowed, ignoring the pit in her gut. She never thought of the way her siblings treated her had anything to do with her missing them. They were her siblings, and she loved them, even if they were big jerks sometimes. “I… guess." She mumbled, feeling silly for wanting to be back with the others. She bet _they_ weren’t missing her.

He leaned towards her, not in a menacing way, but in a way that felt a little condescending, but did it really matter when she was being paid attention to for once in her life? He caught her eye, sounding reassuring and scolding all at the same time as he spoke, “you know, you aren’t obligated to miss your siblings if you don’t want to. Just because they’re family doesn’t mean you have to love them. It’s okay if you don’t love them, hell, it’s okay if you hate them. What matters first is _you,_ okay?”

But… she _did_ love her siblings, she _did_ miss them, was it wrong of her to? Should she hate them? Her foster Dad seemed to think so, and he was an adult, so he knew best, right? They _were_ really mean to her sometimes, and they made her cry a lot when they left her out, but they had been really nice the past month! Before they were all torn apart.

Her chin trembled as a lump formed in her throat, and she swallowed back tears.

She could feel him staring at her. “Do you understand, Seven?” she forced herself to nod.

“I want to hear you say it.”

She took a shuddering breath, “what matters first is _me,_ Mr–” she cut herself off, her body freezing in place. Dad had always expected them to use his title when they repeated back orders, and in her moment of panic, she’d forgotten that she didn’t know his name.

Her shoulders tensed as she heard him huff out a laugh, and she chanced a glance to see him looking… amused? Was he not angry? Dad would be, Dad would be so mad–

“You seriously don’t know my name?”

“No…” she mumbled, blushing horribly. “I'm so, so sorry, I didn’t mean to, I was just– I'm really, really sorry, promise–” Dad hated it when she groveled, but whenever she found herself in trouble and given the space to speak, she couldn’t help but deteriorate into pathetic ramblings. Dad had always said it was indicative of how weak she was.

“Hey, hey, seven,” He murmured, leaning forwards and putting his hand on her shoulder. “It’s fine, I'm not going to punish you for it, okay? You know I'm not your Dad, right?

She nodded miserably, finding it hard to look anywhere other than the floor.

“I guess I should introduce myself again,” he held out his hand, “your brother knows me as Mr Peabody, but you can call me Leonard.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: emotional manipulation, emotional abuse, heavily implied physical abuse, implied bullying, (potentially triggering character at the end of the notes for if you wanna see the triggers but not get spoilt
> 
> ⚠️ character spoilers below ⚠️
> 
> the potentially triggering character is Harold Jenkins, and just to make it clear, due to the relationship Vanya and Harold has in canon, NOTHING GROSS WILL BE HAPPENING BETWEEN THESE TWO. Harold is an absolute asshole in every conceivable universe but even he's not gonna do anything like that here.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello!! sorry this took so long, but it's extra long so hopefully that makes up for it lol
> 
> trigger warnings at the end

Four was alone. _Four was alone,_ and that wasn’t supposed to happen, that wasn’t right, and yet here he was, crying and struggling against Marigold’s grip as the car drove the last of his siblings away. He was shattering into a million tiny pieces as his knees buckled and he fell into the sidewalk, dragging Marigold down with him. 

“Four?” Her gentle voice broke through his cloud of misery as he desperately curled into himself, heaving with sobs. He heard a sigh. “I'm so sorry, Four, I can't imagine what you must be feeling right now." That’s right, she couldn’t, so why was she still here? Why wasn’t she getting his siblings back rather than standing around and doing nothing? He growled, feeling angrier than he’s pretty sure he’s ever been before. 

“No you’re _not." H_ e hissed out, choking on a sob. 

“Excuse me?”

“You’re _not_ sorry, you’re _not._ If you were really sorry then you would’ve let us stay together! I hate you, this is all your fault!” 

“Four–” her voice was gentle and soft, like Four’s world wasn’t falling apart around him, like everything was still okay, and when he felt a gentle arm touch his shoulder, his training kicked in. 

He wasn’t even sure what happened, one minute all he could feel was _fury_ towards Marigold, and everything she was doing to him and his siblings, and the next she was on the floor, clutching her arm. 

He froze, staring at her in shock, trembling hard. He could barely see her through his tears, but he felt the urge to ask if she was okay, anyway. He never liked hurting people, not even when dad wanted him to. 

He tentatively reached his hand towards Marigold, but strong arms suddenly wrapped around him, pinning his arms to his side. Panic hitting him like a truck, he reflexively screamed, kicking against the person holding him, throwing his head back, all the tactics dad taught him, but their grip wouldn’t budge. 

He didn’t know how to defend himself against this. Dad always said he was too useless and weak to ever figure it out. He had always told himself that at least when it happened on missions, he could trust one of his siblings to save him.

But his siblings weren’t here. 

The thought hit him like a truck, and he slumped against the adult’s grip, panting and crying like a baby. 

He knew his siblings were gone, he _knew_ that. But the thought that if he called, his siblings wouldn’t come? That there truly was no one to help him? It was too much, and humiliatingly, he felt his face screw up, sobs tearing themselves out of his chest he buried his face in his fists, barely even noticing that the adult had let him go, quietly talking with Marigold over his head. One of the others would probably do the smart thing and pull themselves together to pay attention what they were saying, but everything was all so overwhelming and horrible, and he just wanted to run to his room and hide under his covers forever, he wanted to go to Six, or Two, or Three, or _anyone_ and get a hug. He just _wanted_ his siblings _back_.

“Four?” There was a gentle touch on his chin, and he gasped, flinching away. He choked on a sob, as the adults talked over him, and he should be paying attention, he should be vigilant, on guard, he had to protect himself because now there was no one else to do it for him, but he just curled up on himself even more, hiding behind his arms.

Hands touched his shoulders, and he flinched away again, but the hands didn’t leave, gently pulling him up and they were taking him somewhere and no matter how much he struggled and twisted the adult wouldn’t let go, and they were saying something to him, but it didn’t matter because his blood was rushing past his ears and his chest was becoming tighter and tighter and _they were putting in a room god please no–_

The ghosts were here, they were always here and the last of his siblings departing infuriated them. They were all screaming, scrambling for his attention when he could barely even _breathe._

_“Stupid child! Stupid child, look what you’ve done you’re dead now–”_

_“You’re alone now, there’s no one to protect you–”_

_Hide, just hide–”_

“Four?" A hand gently touched his shoulder, and he flinched away, wondering when Marigold died– Why was she even in the mausoleum anyway? Was he in the mausoleum? There were so many ghosts but ghosts couldn’t touch so he didn’t know– he didn’t _know._ If one of the others were here, they would tell him what was alive or not. “Four, please, you need to calm down. Rebbeca is coming, she can calm you down so we can talk, alright?”

He shook his head wildly. He didn’t want Rebecca, he _wanted his siblings._ The ghosts wailed at whatever threat they detected in Marigold’s words and Four curled up into a tiny ball, hands tight over his ears as he wished more than anything to just stop existing. 

With his eyes shut tight, he couldn't see what made the ghosts more upset then they already were, and he didn’t _want_ to, he just wanted to go back to his room, and curl up in his sibling’s beds, and pretend that they were still there, comforting him as the ghosts screamed in his ear.

“Four, you’re– panic attack– need to–breathe, alright?" A woman’s voice cut through the ghost’s wails, bit by bit, and it took him a second to realise who she was. He sobbed when he realised what Rebecca was asking from him. How could she not understand? he _couldn’t_ breathe, it was impossible, not while the ghosts were here, stealing the air and life out of him as if it were their own. He was going to die just like the ghosts told him–

“You’re not dying, I promise, you just need to breathe." He curled tighter at that, whining high in his throat. He couldn’t, he _couldn’t._

“You can, I'll show you how, alright? Count with me, okay? Breathe in, one, two, three, breathe out, four, five, six, seven, breathe in..." Why was Rebecca saying his sibling’s numbers? Were they here? In naive hope, he peeled his eyes open, hoping to catch a glimpse of one of the other’s faces. Nothing. Just ghosts, and Rebecca, looking concerned. 

It took him a few seconds to realise she was just doing normal counting, and even longer to realise what she wanted him to do.

He made a false start, a quick gasp, a sure sign of how useless and disobedient he was, not even able to breathe, but Rebecca smiled and praised him as if he was somehow doing a good job, encouraging him to keep going. He closed his eyes, desperately attempting to sync his shuddering breaths to Rebecca's voice, calmly counting. 

Breathe in, 

One, _stoic and quiet as him and Seven were being driven away. He had been awkward, silent, as if he didn’t know what to say. Maybe he felt guilty for not doing his job as a leader and keeping them all together._

Two, _so, so furious at being forced away from his family, clinging onto him and_ crying _as the adults forced him into his foster parent’s car. He was stuttering worse than Four had ever seen him. He hoped he was just a little bit better, wherever he was._

Three, _climbing into her new family’s car so calmly and quietly that Four would have thought she really didn’t care if he didn’t know how good of an actor she was. She had a plan, although who knew what it was._

Breathe out,

Four, _was scared, he was so, so scared. Scared of the ghosts, of the adults, of his siblings, of his future, and before, all he could do was pretend everything was okay for his siblings, just try and hold everyone together, but now there was no one. No one but him. What the hell did that mean?_

Five, _obsessed with his calculations, and his math and that notebook he carried everywhere that supposedly carried the formula to time travel. It had been so_ long _since he’d seen Five, he had spent so long expecting him to appear at any moment, ready to take him and the others into the future, away from the adults, and dad, where they could all be together. But maybe Five’s given up by now. Four couldn’t blame him._

Six, _just as scared as him and quiet, with only his books for company. He didn’t know how Six was managing the Horror in the midst of all this, Four was barely handling his own powers. Dad said that Six needed regular training otherwise the Horror would break out and kill him. Would that happen? What if it already did?_

Seven, _quiet and timid. She had meekly followed whatever orders she had been given, but ever since the others found out about her powers there was a glint of purpose in her eye that Four had only ever seen when she played her violin. Well, out of this whole mess, he guessed he was happy that at least one of them got what they wanted._

He just hoped that they were okay. That was all he could do, just hold out flimsy useless _hope_ that they were all okay. And he knew they weren’t, he knew that they were probably in the horrible houses that killed the ghosts– knew that it was probably going to be any week now, one of his siblings were going to join his army of ghosts and there was nothing he could do about it. 

He had felt helpless before, but it had never quite suffocated him like this before. Even in the mausoleum, he knew he was eventually going to be let out. Soon enough, he would see the others again, he would be away from the ghosts. But this. For all he knew, this was forever. At least until someone wanted to foster him. But that was unlikely, who would ever want _him?_ Maybe Marigold would sell him to a scientist or something, like how his mother sold him to Dad when he was a baby.

“Well, Four? Are you feeling better?”

He sniffled. He felt… not better, but breathing was coming a lot easier now, and his heart didn’t feel like it was going to explode. He still couldn’t stop the tears that leaked from his eyes though, and it felt like another failure heaped onto this horrible day. Rebecca was waiting for him to answer, so he shrugged, uselessly wiping away the tears from his eyes, and avoiding eye contact. He had been taken into a small office room, quiet and neat, and practically the antithesis of everything the mausoleum was. Aside from the ghosts, but they were always there. 

Rebbeca didn’t seem to mind his lack of answer, smiling gently in a way that the ghosts screamed at him not to trust. His ears hurt so much. “Okay, that’s okay. You’ve had a very long day, haven’t you? Why don’t you rest?”

“I want to go to our room." He murmured, hugging himself tightly. 

“Sounds like a good idea." She nodded. “I can tell someone to bring you dinner later if you’re feeling up for it." He shrugged again, feeling incredibly drained of energy. “Okay. Come with me, I'll show you to your new room.”

A dull spike of pain shot through in his chest and he blinked, confused. “What do you mean by my new room? I still get to stay in our old one, right?” 

Rebecca swallowed, shaking her head. “No, I'm afraid you don’t. Your old room was big enough for you and all your siblings, and as I'm sure you’ve noticed, we’re a bit stretched thin on space, here. We need the room.” 

He stared, blinking hurt tears out of his eyes. Before he even knew what was happening he was running, leaving behind Rebecca's calls for him to come back, all the way to their room. He slammed into the doorframe, unable to slow down fast enough, and wrenched open the door, staring inside. A strange room stared back. 

It had been completely stripped clean of anything remotely recognizable, the room had already felt empty as his sibling’s things were slowly packed and brought with them, but now there was _nothing._ Even the bedsheets had been taken away, leaving behind empty mattresses. 

Rebecca caught up to him, mouth already open to tell him off, but he spoke before she could. “Where is everything?” 

“Your things are in your new room, Four. Why don’t you go there and rest like we planned?”

“ _No." H_ e blinked hard, ignoring the lump in his throat. “Why is it so empty? Why are the blankets gone?”

“...Because they needed to clean them. The blankets weren’t your sibling’s, other children will be using them too.”

He knew. He knew but the thought still threatened to tear out a sob. He had nothing left of the others. Literally nothing. Not even the bedsheets that would have still smelled a little bit like them. It was silly and stupid but it was _something_ and he couldn’t even have that. 

“Four.” Rebecca laid a hand on his shoulder and he bit his tongue hard to hold back the tears already rolling down his face. He bet the others would be ashamed of him, being so weak and vulnerable around potential enemies. Had dad taught them nothing? “You’ve had a long day, why don’t you go to your room and lie down?”

He nodded slowly, suddenly feeling incredibly numb. He was just tired. 

Rebecca gently guided him to his new room, small, with only one bed, but it wasn’t as small as his and Seven’s rooms were back home. The thought didn’t comfort him much. 

After a few minutes of small talk and trying to get him comfortable when he remained stiff and silent, rebecca left, and he took the opportunity to slide out of the bed that wasn’t his. It didn’t smell right or feel right, and the covers were all _wrong._

Looking around, there wasn’t much. Just a desk, a chair, and some drawers. At least he didn’t have to share with any strangers. He didn’t know how he would handle _that._ He spotted something hidden behind the foot of his bed, and brought it out into the open. 

It was his bag, all packed up neatly by adults. Just looking at it, his chin wobbled, and he forced himself to breathe, calming himself down. He was crying over a lot of stupid things today, but crying over a _bag_ was definitely a step too far. But… it was like an anchor in a stormy sea of change, despite everything being turned upside down, at least _this_ was the same. 

Unable to resist holding onto the only steady thing in this whole mess, he hugged it to his chest tight, wishing that one of the others were here to hug him instead. At least the ghosts were quieter now that all the adults were gone. 

Sniffling, he shifted, and flinched when something sharp pricked him. After a confused search, he opened his bag to see if the sharp thing was in it. He froze. The knife, buried deep in his bag, glinted when the lightbulb hit it the right way. Two must have hidden it in his stuff when the adults started confiscating his knives. They must have missed it when they packed his things.

Suddenly, without warning his face screwed up, sobs being ripped out of him without his consent. Pressing a hand against his mouth did nothing to silence the sounds, and he screwed his eyes shut.

He wanted the others back. He just wanted them back. 

* * *

He couldn’t _do_ this anymore. 

The ghosts had always been awful throughout his life, screaming in his face and begging for his attention his whole life, but he had always ignored the ghosts and remained sane through sheer force of will and the occasional sip stolen from dad’s personal bar. Or, that was how he thought he coped. 

Turns out, the only thing that kept him from ripping his hair out and knocking himself unconscious on the floor was his siblings, who kept him in the world of the living with their surprise wrestling attacks, their tight hugs, and the occasional smack when Four had stolen their food, or something like that. Their causal touches grounded him, and without them, Four was untethered, left in a free fall into the land of the dead. 

And now they were gone. They were gone and it was hitting Four all at once what that really _meant._ He was a child without a family, a soldier without a squad. He didn’t know how to be alone, and every time he’d search for one of the others until he realised they weren’t here, had turned to tell a joke to someone that wasn’t there, had just burrowed that fact deeper into his being. 

Dad was right. He _was_ useless without his siblings. He was so weak and pathetic that he couldn’t even handle the ghosts for more than a few days before resorting to what he always resorted to. Drugs. 

He had faked sick, coughing until his throat was sore, so that they would give him cough syrup. Just a normal dose didn’t do much, just made the ghosts a little less quiet, but _anything_ was better than how they usually were. It wasn’t much, but it got him by for just a little while, until the adults had brought him to a doctor, who had confirmed that Four was indeed faking it. 

Four had expected to get a slap on the wrist like he and the others had gotten for other times they broke the rules, such as not immediately obeying the staff’s orders, talking at dinner times, and getting into fights with other kids. Four had expected to at worst, be forced to skip a few meals. It hadn’t happened here yet, but he had figured that a small punishment at home was a big punishment here. 

Turned out faking being sick to get drugs was very bad here. They had given him a two hour talk where he was repeatedly told how bad addiction was– he _knew_ how bad it was, he met ghosts who died from overdose a _lot._ The adults looked even unhappier when he told them that. After that, they put him under constant supervision, so that he couldn’t sneak off and get medicine he wasn't supposed to have. 

He had been scared at first, sure that being under ‘constant supervision’ was something horrible and painful and he would have no siblings to comfort him afterwards– but it turned out that it just meant being followed around by an adult. It was okay during the day, he was used to ignoring people that followed him, but at night, everyone was supposed to be asleep, including the staff, so they locked him in his room at night. Just until they were sure he could be trusted. 

It was _horrible_.

A piercing scream ripped through the air, and he bit down the tears that desperately wanted to come, curling up in a ball under the covers of his blanket and clutching Two’s knife tight in his hands, as if that would give him any sort of protection. _God_ , he would give _anything_ to have something to make them go away. _Anything,_ just for five minutes of peace.

_“Four, Four, Four, Four, Four,”_ one of the ghosts chanted, wandering around his room– _His_ room, not _their_ room. _His._ He didn’t know why the thought upset him so much. But regardless of who the room belonged to, she was looking for him, desperate to tell the only child who could see them all her woes. Luckily, the ghosts usually weren’t that good at finding things. They only saw what was right in front of them. 

A bitter cold suddenly seeped into his bones and he froze, not daring to even breathe. There was a ghost on his bed. Or standing in it, it didn’t really matter. All that mattered was if it found him, then all the ghosts would be clamouring to talk to him– to tell him all the details of how they died, and how it was going to happen to him too and–

He swallowed a lump lodged in his throat, finally giving up the comfort of Two’s knife to clutch at his ears. He didn’t want to think about it. Mom said if he thought about something too much, it would come true, and Four didn’t want to tempt fate with all the horrible thoughts he had.

_“Where are you?! You can’t hide from me, it’s not fair! You’re just like him, you’re just like the bastard who killed me–”_

_“You need to run, you need to hide. There’s no one to protect you, you’re alone! You’re alone you’re alone, you’re alone–”_

“ _Klaus, Klaus, Klaus, look at me, look at me, Klaus–”_

That last ghost was really getting on his nerves. It kept calling for someone who wasn’t even here, some guy named Klaus. If Four _had_ to have ghosts following him around, it could at least be ghosts who knew who they were haunting. 

The ghost kept saying the person’s name, and Four pressed his hands harder to his ears. No use. If just his hands shut up the ghosts, then Four would have found a way to keep them to his ears all the time. God, he wished that was all it would take. But the only things that Four had found that stopped the ghosts were some types of medicine, and dad’s drinks, and he didn’t like the _other_ effects some medicine had. Cough syrup got rid of the ghosts a bit, but on the one occasion that he managed to sneak more than the recommended dose, it had been horrible. Though it had gotten rid of all the ghosts, the strange things it made him see and feel wasn’t worth it.

Four _hated_ hallucinating, he liked being drunk better. It didn’t make him see things and it made everything tipsy and hilarious. He didn't like the dizziness and nausea and everything else that came afterwards, though. Mom had called veisalgia, and Pogo had called a hangover, either way, it made Four feel the _worst._ It made him feel like the only thing that would make it better was to get drunk again.

“ _Klaus, please, look at me, look at me Klaus, please–”_

He tried to not talk to the ghosts, he really did. Mom always said that if he ignored them for long enough then they would get bored and go away. So far, it hasn’t worked, but maybe he just hadn’t ignored them for long enough. 

_“Klaus, please, I'm so scared, I'm so alone, it was so scary, please I just need to talk to_ someone– _”_

But then again, this ghost didn’t seem like he was going to give up soon–

_“Klaus, Klaus, Klaus, Klaus–”_

“Oh my god! Shut up! Why the hell do you keep saying that guy’s name!?” He threw himself up into a sitting position, pulling the blanket off his head in frustration, and revealing himself to every ghost in the room. 

He froze, his breath catching as he realised what he’d just done, and then each ghost exploded with cries, all desperately baying for his attention and he was so _stupid_ how could he mess up the very thing he’s been dealing with all his life? The ghosts were all so loud and they were so _close_ and the blankets underneath him weren’t enough to remind him that he wasn’t on the cold hard ground of the mausoleum–

“Oh no– no, no, no, shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up!” He curled himself into a ball, as if that would help, and plugged his fingers in his ears but it _didn’t work_ , nothing ever worked– if Three was here, she could rumour him to fall asleep, or– or if Two was here, Four could talk his ear off, talking about everything and nothing, and Two would sigh, or groan in irritation but he wouldn’t tell him to shut up and that was enough– or Six could wrestle with him, read a book to him, maybe even sneak in a secret hug – _but they weren’t here._ They weren’t here and he was all alone and he would always be alone– “Shut up!” He hissed– He didn’t want any adults to come in– “I don’t want to listen to all of you, I just wanted to know who she was talking to! Shut up!”

He sobbed, tensing in preparation for another bout of screams, but–

They… were a little quieter? 

He sniffled, looking up. The ghosts were still very much furious and sad, and all _way_ too loud, but they looked almost…cautious? Apprehensive? They looked like they were waiting for something and Four didn’t know what. 

He blinked, and there was the girl who kept saying a random person’s name. She looked _way_ older than Four, practically an adult. If he had to guess, she looked maybe fifteen, or sixteen? He didn’t have a lot of experience with teenagers, though he guessed that he and the others were technically teens. 

The girl wasn’t talking for once, but it was hard to notice when it was still so noisy. She was staring, though, and that was creeping him out, because her face was all hallowed in and weird, and before he could think better of it, the words escaped from his mouth. 

“Who’s Klaus?” 

The ghost’s eyes widened, until there was white all around her pupils. _“You’re talking to me, you’re actually talking to me! my name is Amy, and i’ve been so lonely, no one’s been talking to me–”_

“No, that’s not what I asked! Tell me who Klaus is. Was he your murderer?” the ghost stared

and her answer was strikingly loud compared to the ghost’s moans and cries in the background. Or maybe the ghosts were getting quieter?

_“No, no one murdered me, I'm not dead. And you’re Klaus.”_

Four blinked. “What? No I'm _not._ I'm Four. I don’t have a name.”

The ghost blinked. _“Your name is Klaus,”_ she insisted, and Four groaned. He _really_ hated talking to ghosts. 

“How would you even know? Only mom knows what my name is, and Two. Maybe." He wasn’t sure. Two was such a mommy’s boy, and mom would have probably wanted him to save it for their birthday. It would explain how upset he was when One tore it up.

_“Yes, it is, I know it is! I saw your name– on the paper, it was on the paper. You’re Four, right? Klaus was next to number four.”_

He froze. This girl– Amy was making no sense, but if she was talking about mom’s present–

“What?” he squeaked out, but the ghost didn’t seem that interested in elaborating, muttering to herself about papers and names and moms and other stuff that Four couldn’t be bothered to acknowledge because _what?_

When he imagined getting named, or imagined how the night Two told them about their names would have gone if One didn’t tear up mom’s present, he imagined that once he heard his name, everything would just... _click._ He’d suddenly be a person, suddenly everything in the world would be easier because he had his name, and he wasn’t a freak like all the normal kids said, but–

But he felt nothing. He didn’t feel any sort of connection to it, he didn’t feel anything. It was just… some guy’s name. Not Number Four’s. 

He suddenly realised that the ghosts had steadily become more silent as he had talked to the kid. They didn’t seem happy that he had stopped, though, because they were getting loud again, demanding that _it was their turn to talk– listen to me, please listen to me–_

He squeezed his eyes, and tears leaked out, and his headache was already so bad from all the yelling and crying and his eyes hurt from constantly wiping away the tears, and he just wanted everything to _stop._ He just wanted to have a chance to stop and _breathe_ for a second, to just forget all of his problems for just a _moment._

_“You don’t look so happy." A_ quiet voice remarked, and Four turned to look back at the liar– a liar because she must have been saying that Klaus was his name to get his attention, if it was his _real_ name, then Four would have connected with it, but he didn’t so it was a lie. Besides, she didn’t even know she was dead, why should he believe her about anything–

_“You aren’t happy." A_ my restated, staring into his soul with tired, sunken eyes. Some of the older kids in the group home looked like that. Sniffling, he rolled his eyes.

“Really? What made you think that?” Amy’s face hardened.

_“I know what it’s like to not be happy. I used to stay here, you know, when I was your age. God, the only thing that kept me sane was the drinks that the workers kept in the staff room. Though I got to have the better stuff when I was sleeping rough.”_

Four looked at her face, at her tired, sunken eyes, and at her arms, where painful looking spots and marks lay, her hands shaking in withdrawal, even in death, and decided that he didn’t need to ask how she died. But wait–

“The adults are keeping drinks in the staff room?” Amy’s face froze.

_“Yeah? And what about it?”_ she stared, deep into his eyes, and he looked away, not wanting to confront her face for longer than necessary. _“...You’re planning on stealing it, aren’t you?”_

“Well, yeah? It’s the only thing that keeps you guys away, and as I'm sure you’ve noticed, you’re not exactly a joy to be around–”

_“You can’t!”_ she suddenly bellowed, shocking him enough that he actually fell backwards from surprise. _“You can’t, you can’t, you can’t, you can’t! Do you know what happens to thieving little shits like you? You get kicked out! Forgotten! Left to rot! Just like me! You’ll be just like me!”_ she lunged at him, and he barely held back a scream, turning cold inside and out as she fell through him, screaming in anger, and the ghosts were all _yelling_ again– and it wasn’t as bad as the mausoleum, nothing was as bad, but it still made him cry out, slamming his hands tight against his ears and curling up into a ball and wishing that he had never been born–

He lunged for the door, frantically picking it with an abandoned bobby pin until it clicked open. The hallways didn’t help, but it gave him somewhere to run– it meant he wasn’t _trapped,_ trapped like he had been in the mausoleum. 

He shook his head, moving as fast as he dared without making too much sound to alert the staff. If he misjudged how the adults would react to him faking sick, then who knew how they would react to blatant disregard of orders? Dad would’ve _killed_ him, that was for sure. 

He didn’t know where his feet were taking him until he had arrived. He blinked, staring at the door that was completely the same as other doors, except that it had the sign with the word _staff_ on it, helpfully labeling exactly what room it was. 

His fingers tightened on the bobby pin still in his hand, and the knife that was in the other. He didn’t even notice he picked it up. The ghosts became louder, and his tired ears pulsed in pain.

_“Don’t you dare! Don’t you dare you little shit, don’t you–”_

He ignored them as he got to work, years of training allowing him to break in easily. Very easily. The locks here were so simple compared to the high quality stuff dad made them work on. 

The staff room just looked like a strange living room. No animal heads or fancy couches anywhere, but there was a little kitchen in the living room for some reason. Why it wasn’t in a separate room, Four had no idea, but he didn’t care, because it made everything just a little bit easier. 

The ghosts crowded him, making it hard to move without bumping into something, but he reached the fridge, pulling it open to reveal various foods and metal cans. There was nothing here that looked _anything_ like dad’s bar at home, but the ghosts– especially the girl– were screaming even more, making his ears ring, so he figured he was heading in the right direction. 

Choosing the only liquid that seemed to be in the fridge, he grabbed a can and opened it, taking a sip. Immediately his face reflexivity scrunched at the taste. Yep, that was definitely alcoholic, though it tasted different than dad’s stuff. Less strong and more… _bread–y._

He didn’t care what it tasted like, he just needed it to get rid of the godawful _screaming._ As fast as he could, he downed the can, making faces at the taste and resisting the urge to gag. By the third can, he was starting to get used to it. 

By the fifth can, he was feeling lightheaded. 

By the sixth, he was starting to think that maybe he shouldn’t have drank so much so quickly, but the ghosts had left so _fast,_ how could he regret it?

Halfway through the seventh can, everything was so unsteady, and he was _so_ tired from dealing with the ghosts for so long. He felt so much better, all alone in silence with a pleasant buzz. He couldn’t find it in himself to care about anything. Slumping over, he passed out, the remains of the seventh can slowly trickling out onto the carpet. 

* * *

The first thing he was aware of when he woke up was a splitting headache, and soft sheets. Neither of these were strange, it wasn’t unusual for him to wake up feeling horrible after drinking from dad’s stash, but what _was_ strange was the first thing that had greeted him when he opened his eyes were two _furious_ adults waiting for him to wake up. 

They had caught him, and he was in _huge_ trouble. 

He didn’t realise he was, at first, since they had let him stay in bed for longer than usual, letting him ‘sleep it off’, but as soon as his headache lowered down to manageable levels, he was dragged out of bed, and brought straight into Marigold’s office, her looking the most grim and serious Four had ever seen her. He had felt scared, but even then, he truly didn’t realise how much trouble he was in until he spotted _Carol_ , sitting next to Marigold with an equally grim look.

He was sat down in front of Marigold’s desk and left to stew in his anxiety as Marigold and Carol both looked simultaneously very angry and very sad, somehow. After a beat of silence, they glanced at each other, and Marigold moved first, pinching her nose and looking very, very, tired. 

“Well, Four. I'm sure you know why you’re here." He nodded, resisting the urge to squirm. She fixed him with a look, one that made his heart beat faster. What would she do to him– this was his second time messing up what was the punishment for _that–_ “Do you understand how serious alcohol abuse is?”

He blinked up at her, uncomprehending. Was he just going to get another lecture? “Um… yes?” whenever he had gotten into trouble with dad, which was all the time, the best way to not get hurt as much was to stay quiet and agree with everything he said. Hopefully it worked with Marigold, too. She raised her eyebrow at his answer, and his heart sunk. 

“We already _talked_ about this when you had gotten it in your head to fake being sick for medicine. I _know_ you know how serious this is." She paused, and he nodded, not knowing what she wanted him to say. “So why did you steal the beers?”

There was a beat of silence, and it felt suffocating. If only to break the silence, he offered, “It’s the only way to get them to shut up.” 

They both blinked at that, looking at each other. “Them?” Carol asked, “You mean the ghosts?” he nodded. What _else_ would he mean?

Marigold shook her head. “What does stealing drugs have to do with the ghosts? Four, using your powers as an excuse isn’t–”

“I'm not!” his panicked protest burst out of him, and once he started, he couldn’t stop. “I'm not, I'm not lying, I'm not making it up. They’re so _loud_ and they hurt my ears _so_ much, and i’ve tried so many things, but medicine and alcohol is the only thing that works!” His outburst left the women completely silent, and his heart seized, making him duck his head down, and quietly apologise. He _hated_ not being believed, but that was no excuse as dad would say. He would’ve _killed_ him for that outburst. Maybe even hit him with his cane and leave his jaw sore and aching. Neither Carol or Marigold had a cane, but there were lots of heavy things on her desk that would hurt a lot. 

“...I'd appreciate it if you didn’t interrupt me, Four." He ducked his head even lower, feeling like if he pressed himself into his chair any harder he’d fall right through onto the floor. 

“M’ sorry.”

“Four, darling." Carol got his attention, and his stomach clenched a little in anger at kindness in her face. She was the reason they had all been separated, she was the reason everything was wrong. If she had never invaded their lives, then everything would be normal. “Do you mean that, when you take a lot of medicine, or drink a lot of beer, the ghosts go away? Your powers just… stop working?”

He shrugged, looking down at his lap. “I– I guess. It’s always worked that way for me. They’re just– so _loud_ and scary, and I just want some peace and _quiet_ for once.”

“Of course,” Carol was nodding, looking so understanding and Four hated her for being so nice. It’d be easier to blame her for everything if she was evil, like the robbers they fought at the bank. “That’s what I'd want too, if I had your powers. They _really_ don’t sound nice, are they like that all the time?”

He nodded. And there was a pause where they waited for him to continue, but he couldn’t find it in himself to give them anything. Hadn’t they already taken enough?

“Four, would you please wait outside?” Marigold looked up at him, looking very tired. “You’ve given us a lot to talk about.”

He gladly did so, moving quickly out of the room, and onto another chair that sat outside Marigold’s door. It was more uncomfortable than the one outside. 

He could hear them talking through the door, but the ghost’s noise meant that he couldn’t make out what they were even talking about. What was going to happen to him? Was he going to stay, or were they going to write him off as a lost cause? Maybe they would just kick him out, like what happened to Amy. She was here right now, spitting curses at the office door. 

Trapped in the anxiety of his future, he almost didn’t notice when the door clicked open, Carol beckoning him in with a look on her face that made his stomach flip flop. 

He sat back down, avoiding eye contact until Marigold tapped the table in front of him, making him look up into her eyes. They looked tired, sad, _regretful._

“I just want to start by saying I'm sorry for not believing you,” she started, “but drug abuse is _very_ serious. When a child is found using here, we have to ask their case worker to rehome them, because they’re a bad influence on the other children. I wanted to talk to Carol alone because your powers made everything more complicated.”

He shuffled in his seat, looking away again. “Sorry.” 

“Don’t be, it’s not something you can control.” Marigold smiled at him, but it felt flat. “Sometimes, we feel like the child, if properly motivated, can stop using on their own, and they can stay." She paused, and he waited, his body tense with anxiety, for her to keep talking. 

“...But because of your ghosts, we think you’re more motivated to _keep_ using than you are to stop. And the cough syrup incident, as well as last night proves that there’s a pattern. I'm so sorry, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask Carol to find you a home within the next few days.”

He blinked. Waited to feel something. Blinked again. “Oh." Carol walked up to him, placing her hand on his shoulder and squeezing, and Four shrugged her off, wrapping his arms around his torso. 

Carol smiled at him nonetheless. “Don’t worry, it’ll be tight, but I'll do my best to find a home that will be good for you. All you have to do is pack up your things and stay out of trouble in the meantime, okay?”

he swallowed, shrugging his shoulders. Great. Just like everything, he couldn’t help but mess it all up. What would the others think if they saw him now?

At least this time, he’d gotten a few day’s warning before his world got flipped upside down for the second time this year. 

* * *

He didn’t want to leave, he didn’t want to pack up his things, he didn’t want to do _anything_ the two women who were the sole cause of ruining his life told him to do. But Marigold said that if he didn’t pack up his things, then they would get left behind and given to other kids. 

Four didn’t want to pack up his things, but he didn’t want to be trapped in a new place with nothing but the clothes on his back, so he eventually gave in, sullenly packing with Carol only hours away from picking him up to drive him to his new home. 

It hadn’t felt real. The past few days after being told he had to leave, he had pretty much just gone as normal, except he wasn’t really there. Everything felt so distant and muted and so far away, and maybe this was what being a ghost was like? If so then it didn’t make sense why they were screaming and crying all the time, it was _way_ better than being alive. 

But now that he had to pack his things, everything was becoming suddenly, dizzyingly real, and all he could do was flounder as he fell back onto earth, hard. 

How was he even supposed to deal with this? He didn’t even know who he was going to, was Carol just going to drop him off with a family of strangers that had strange rules and no siblings, and he was just supposed to go along with it? There was no hope now for any of the others to find him. They’d have no idea where he was. He wasn’t– he couldn’t– he could handle the idea of not being able to see them for a really long time, at least _then,_ there was an end date. He wouldn’t have to be alone forever. 

The reality of the situation suddenly hit him like a truck, and his hands started to shake as nausea stirred in his stomach. He had never been anywhere that wasn’t the academy, the bank, and the group home before. The idea that he was just supposed to jump in a car and get dumped into a completely new place, with new people and new rules and no siblings, was– it was–

It was _terrifying._ But he couldn’t let himself think about it, not on top of everything else– leaving meant his siblings didn’t know where he was– the ghosts were so _furious_ ever since they figured out he was leaving– everything was happening so quickly and everything was about to change and there was _nothing_ he could do to stop it and–

His stomach revolted, and he lept up, bursting out of his room and rushing to the nearest toilet, heaving his breakfast into the bowl. Thank god his room was close to one of the bathrooms, he did _not_ want to think about what the punishment was for dirtying up the floors. Dad _hated_ it, said that it was a sign of weakness that they allowed themselves to get that sick in the first place. His stomach seized at the memory of the punishments that followed, but luckily all that came out was a cough, and he choked back on a sob, wiping his eyes and not being surprised when his hand came away wet with tears. 

Someone knocked on the door, and he hastily flushed the toilet to get rid of the evidence, but seeing Marigold’s face when she peeked in, it was obvious that she knew what he had been doing. 

“Are you alright, Four?” he shrugged, swallowing down the painful acid that remained in his mouth. 

“Yeah,” he murmured, “I'm fine.”

By the look on her face, she didn’t believe him, but she didn’t tell him off for lying. She looked into his soul with those tired, apologetic eyes, and smiled thinly. “You don’t have to feel ashamed of being nervous. Lots of kids are before they’re taken into their new home, and most of the time, they didn’t need to be nervous.”

Nervous didn’t seem like a strong enough word. Completely terrified fit better. But what would Marigold know? She wasn’t the one being shipped off to a family of strangers. She was the reason he was even being kicked out in the first place. 

There was a beat of silence where she waited for him to respond, and he remained sullenly silent. He flinched when she patted him on his shoulder, expecting a hit for his disrespect, but instead she smiled, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Still, you don’t look so well. How about I get someone else to pack up for you and you can stay here until you feel better, or until Carol comes to pick you up. Whatever first." The reminder of Carol coming caused his stomach to churn, but he bravely held out until Marigold left the room. Ugh, he hated being sick so much. 

A thought occurred to him, and he quickly slid his hand into his pocket, and cool, sharp metal greeted his fingers. Good, whoever Marigold asked to pack his things wouldn’t confiscate Two’s knife from him. He didn’t know if he would need it, the ghosts had been _very_ adamant that every foster parent was bad and going to kill Four the first chance they got but Four _couldn’t_ believe that, not when his siblings were with foster parents _right now._

...His siblings still haven’t appeared out of thin air, bloody and broken, to tell him all about how they died, and that was enough for Four to hold out hope that maybe foster parents weren’t as bad as the ghosts said. 

Of course, them being alive didn’t mean that their foster parents weren’t making their lives a living hell, but Four liked to think that they were strong and brave enough to save themselves if they had to. They weren’t like him, weak useless Number Four who had powers that only ever hindered him. They weren’t constantly _scared_ all the time like he was, well, except for Six maybe, but he had Five. All Four had was Two’s knife. 

He _really_ hoped his foster parents weren't bad. He hopes that they’d maybe let him see his siblings one day, but he knew that was a lot to hope for. Maybe one day in the far, distant future, he would turn eighteen and leave, and find all the others. And they would click back together like they never left each other, like the last seven years never happened, and they would be together and away from dad, and everything would be okay–

Someone knocked on the door. “Four, Carol’s here.”

He just had to survive right now first. 

“Okay." He called back, standing up and distantly noting his red knees from sitting on the hard floor for so long. He opened the door and had his bag pushed into his arms, stumbling under the weight of it a little bit. “Are you ready, Four?” Marigold smiled down at him. “Is there anyone you want to say goodbye to before leaving?”

“No." He answered truthfully. Even after One and seven left, and there was no one who would prevent him from talking to other kids, he still kept to himself. Talking to other kids without the backup of Three there was nerve wracking, and to be honest, he didn’t really care about making friends with other kids. They all thought he was weird anyway. 

Marigold sighed, “Four, can you look at me? You’re not in trouble, I promise.” Despite that, his heart still started to beat faster as he looked up at her. She looked remorseful, and something in him twisted in anger and sorrow. “I know you’re angry at me for making you leave, and I just want you to know that I truly am sorry. I _wish_ that you could stay here until Carol finds a home that fits you, but I have to think about the other children who live here as well. Do you understand?”

He broke eye contact, swallowing hard, and despite his efforts to avoid the ghosts in the room, his eyes caught on a familiar ghost. Amy. 

“Do you know who Amy is?” it slipped out before he could stop himself, and Marigold blinked in surprise. 

“No. Is she someone you want to say goodbye to?” he shook his head. 

“No, she’s a kid who used to stay here. Her name was Amy, and she was kicked out of here for doing drugs." He looked up at Marigold, who suddenly looked very pale. “She died of an overdose on the streets. I don’t know why she was homeless in the first place, though. Did she get a foster home?”

“I–i don’t know." She stuttered out, looking at him with wide eyes. “I’ve only worked here for three years. I’ve never had to ask an Amy to leave." She shook her head, closing her eyes. “There are so many children in the system, Four, and there are so many children that I can't help. All I can do is help the children I have now the best I can.” Four stared at her, turning her words over in his mind. “Now let’s go, Carol’s waiting.”

As he was encouraged along, he couldn’t help but wonder if he was one of the children that she couldn’t help. If his siblings were the children that couldn’t be helped. They were just seven in thousands, after all, the ghosts proved that very well. Would they slip through the cracks of the system?

He couldn’t ask, or stew in it any longer, because he was outside, and despite all of his confusing feelings about the woman who was the reason why he had to leave in the first place, he couldn’t help but hide behind her, using her as an anchor against the infinite, endlessness of outside. 

Marigold let him cling on to her as they walked over to where Carol was waiting with her car. He was the only one being driven to his new home by her, the others had all been driven away by their new foster parents. Carol took in his red, splotchy face, made a sympathetic one in return, squeezing his shoulder and opening the door for him to get in. 

He should fight, he should scream and kick and do everything in his power to stay, just like the others had done, but instead he quietly climbed in, feeling traitorously relieved to be inside of something again. Was this what Three had felt when she was taken away? How did any of the others have felt? What had they been thinking? Would he ever know?

The door closed behind him, and Carol climbed in, giving him a friendly smile, and reminding him to put on his seatbelt. 

He stared out of the window as Marigold waved him goodbye and the car drove him away from his room, their old room, and away from the place he had slept and lived in for months.

He curled up around his bag and bit back a sob, tears rolling down his cheeks. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warnings: drug abuse, emetophobia, overdose mention
> 
> I hope you guys liked this chapter!! and on that note, I think I'm gonna need to put this fic on pause until I'm done with my projects and my school exams, but after that, it'll be the holidays, and I'll have all the time in the world to work on this! I'll see you guys soon <3


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bitches!!! i'm back!! omg i missed this fic so much. i'm sorry for the long break, school hit me like a goddamn truck, but i'm back now!! hopefully this chapter was worth the wait 🥺 
> 
> chapter warnings in the end notes

_They were on a mission. Again. Going out and killing people once wasn’t enough to get rid of all the bad in the world. They had to do it again and again until dad said that they could stop._

_He didn’t know where the others were. He didn’t know where he_ was. _The world was pitch black, so dark he could barely see further than his own hand. Where was he?_

 _He barely had the chance to call out when without warning the horror_ punched _against his stomach, demanding to come out, no–_ forcing _its way out. It wasn’t going to take no for an answer, it never did, and it all happened so fast, before Six even had a chance to understand what was happening, the horror was out, swinging wildly around in search of prey._

 _There– there was screaming, there were_ people _here. He hadn’t been alone this whole time and he was_ killing _them all._

_“Stop! Stop it!” He screamed, just as he always did, but it paid him no mind. Stupid, stupid, it only ever listened to dad. Where was he? Why wasn’t he stopping it?_

_He could barely see anything through all the tentacles, there were screams as the horror shattered glass, and grabbed more prey, and oh god, no, no, no, those were his_ siblings. _He screamed again, so loud he swore his throat tore, but nothing happened, all he could do was struggle to stand as the Horror used his body as a vessel for killing._

_Something fell right in front of him, and he couldn’t tear his eyes away. Five was lying there, motionless, lax, instead of the tense, brimming energy he was always supposed to have. His eyes were blank, staring blankly through him. He was– oh god– he was–_

_He couldn’t move now, it was as if the horror had taken over his body completely, he couldn’t even open his mouth to scream. All he could do was_ sit _there as Five’s body was joined by Four, by Three, by one, even by_ Seven, _what was she doing here? She was supposed to be safe at home, not dead in this horrible place._

_Everyone was dead. His ears rung in the absence of sound._

_His– his head. He could move his head. Jerkily, like a puppet on strings, he forced it away from his siblings, looking above him where the Horror’s tentacles all pointed towards him. There were no more victims._

_He barely had a chance to open his mouth to scream when they all lunged at him–_

His breath caught in his throat as he shot up in bed, strangling a scream that tried to escape. He clapped a hand over his mouth, and then immediately threw an arm around his stomach as the Horror pushed against his stomach, demanding to be released. No matter how much he shushed it and insisted that there wasn’t anything to kill, it continued, pushing angrily against the lining of his stomach. 

He screwed up his eyes, biting back a groan as it gave him a particularly painful punch. It wasn’t going to go away, it wasn’t going to stop. Back at home he was always assured that the horror would always calm down once it got to kill something. Be it a puppy or a person, it always calmed down afterwards, and Six got to have a break from it until the next thing that made him panic came along.

But here– here there wasn’t _anything_ to kill. There wasn’t anything he could do to fix this. He’d have little panics here and there, and he got _really_ close to panicking when they were told that they had to be seperated– but he always calmed down before the Horror got agitated enough to want to kill something. He’d been keeping it together really well so far. He had to, for the others. Well, only for Five now. Five was so scared as much as he refused to admit it, and he was working so hard on trying to rescue all of them Six couldn’t burden him with his own stupid panic attacks and nightmares. 

He was pulled out of his thoughts when the Horror squirmed in a way that made nausea rise in his stomach and he _had_ to leave, he had to leave before he either threw up or killed Five. 

Wiping away tears that he didn’t even realise were falling off his face, he jumped out of bed, walking as fast as he quietly could until he reached the door, closing it behind him. Just as he did so, the Horror suddenly violently protested and he fell to his knees, only able to clutch at his stomach until the wave of pain ebbed away, leaving him panting. What was he supposed to do? He had painful cramps like this before at the academy, but the knowledge that it would end soon enough always made it bearable. But now…

He gritted his teeth and got up, choosing a direction at random and walking, just to distract himself from the pain. Maybe he could find something for it to kill? Margaret had a cat named pumpkin that purred when he felt sad, but Six–

_The cat liked to come to his windowsill, and she always came in when he opened his window, purring and bumping against his hand when he pet her. Then Dad caught him when she was visiting._

_It had taken hours of sobbing, begging dad to please let him leave it alone please don’t make him hurt her–_

_He gave in, as he always did, and the cat’s yowls finally cut off when the Horror tore her into two–_

He couldn’t– he couldn’t, just the thought of killing an animal he was friends with made bile rise in his throat. Over the years he’d– he’d _taught_ himself to not cry too much when the Horror killed animals and people that he didn’t know. They were just faceless pieces of meat, nothing worth crying about, dad always said, but he was still weak when it came to his friends. He didn’t want to kill pumpkin, and he had no idea how to find animals on his own. Dad had always brought them to him. 

Maybe… maybe the Horror didn’t _just_ want to kill something. Maybe it was hungry? That would explain why it got so mad when Six couldn’t... Feed it, he guessed. Yeah. Yeah, that was it. All Six had to do was find some meat for it to eat, and it would calm down! There was a chicken in the fridge that Margaret was saving, and he wasn’t looking forward to eating it, since meat made him feel sick, but he was sure the Horror would like it. He’d take whatever punishment Margaret would give him without complaint. She’d probably give him a small one, anyway, like making him stand for as long as he could until he collapsed. He could deal with that easily enough. Anything was worth calming the Horror down. 

Mind made up, he walked up to the kitchen door, peering in to make sure no one was there. Sometimes Margaret liked to have tea in the middle of the night. Six had no idea why, Five thought that she was planning something bad, but Margaret said that she did it because it calmed her down. Maybe some tea would calm the Horror down?

The idea of sipping some tea calming the horror down would be funny if a wave of pain didn’t force Six to bite his lip so hard the taste of blood spread in his mouth. That only served to make the Horror angrier. Hungrier?

Once he was sure that it was safe, he made his way into the kitchen, walking up to the fridge and opening it, finding the chicken almost instantly. The Horror wouldn’t like it cold, but it wasn’t like he had a way to heat it up. He just had to hope that it would accept it.

It took him a few minutes, long enough that his face started to hurt a little from the cold, but he eventually worked up the courage to peel his arms away from his stomach, tensely hovering over it as if the Horror could somehow sense there was one less thing keeping it from making its escape. After a minute of holding his breath and keeping his stomach muscles clenched, nothing happened. The Horror continued to squirm unhappily, causing spikes of pain everytime it pressed against his stomach. 

Slowly, tentatively, he reached out and grabbed the chicken, hands shaking as he removed the plastic covering it. The smell wafted up to his nose and nausea completely independent of the Horror filled his stomach. He couldn’t tell if the Horror was excited at the smell of meat, or if it could even tell what Six was smelling, but maybe it was squirming more than it was before? That was good, that meant that maybe the chicken would calm it down. 

Now for the next step. Letting it out. At the mere thought, tears pricked his eyes, and his hands started shaking so much he was scared he was going to drop it. What was it that Margaret told him to do when he was scared? Deep breaths, right. He didn’t like breathing in too deeply because he was always scared that it would disturb the Horror, but he did it anyway, breathing out quickly in case he was right. 

It didn’t work, it just made his heart beat faster. He probably wasn’t doing it right. He gritted his teeth. He couldn’t just stand here all night too scared to let the creature that lived inside him his whole life out. If dad was here, he would’ve already gotten a few whacks from his cane for his dithering. It didn’t matter if he was scared, or if he felt like he was going to throw up, he needed to get over it and let the Horror out. Ignore his fear and do what had to be done. 

He closed his eyes, and the next time the Horror pushed, he gave way. 

Predictably, it lunged forwards, grabbing the fridge– the closest big thing to it, and nearly tilting it over with the force it exerted. But after a few seconds of investigating it, it quickly realised it wasn’t alive, abandoning it and settling on a less violent and scary way of interacting with the world, simply letting its tentacles scrape the floor and investigate its surroundings, only occasionally lunging at something and nearly knocking Six over. It was completely disinterested in what Six was holding. 

“Um." He said, because his heart was beating so fast and tears were rolling down his face and it’s been so _long_ since the Horror being out didn’t mean death or terrifying violence, he didn’t know how to handle it. He waved the chicken in his grip instead, as if the Horror could see it. “It’s– it’s here." He choked out. 

Surprisingly, the Horror seemed to understand. It was so strange, he’d never had a moment like this where he had the time to interact with it before. It wasn’t even causing him that much pain now that it was out, just a dull cramp whenever it flexed one of its many muscles, lifting the ends to investigate the chicken. 

It didn’t seem that interested, but Six insistently shoved it towards the tentacles when they moved away. This _had_ to work, it had to, otherwise he would have to find living creatures and he couldn’t do that, he couldn’t–

“Five, Six? Is one of you in there?” A clatter, and he dropped the chicken in surprise, the plate smashing into a million pieces. There was a heartstopping pause as– _Margaret_ took in the scene, and then– “What the fuck.”

He whipped around, ready to drop to his knees and pick up his mess, blabbering apologies all the while and _praying_ that this wouldn’t be Margaret’s final straw– but before he could do any of that– before he could even open his mouth, the Horror already had already lunged forwards– it had Margaret tight in its grasp and her eyes were wide and any moment now it was going to tear her limb from limb and–

“No! No, no, no, no, _please,_ don’t hurt her, don’t hurt her, _please!”_ He fell to his knees, hands tight over his face as he waited for the squelches and crunches of a human body being torn apart, waiting for the screaming. 

Silence remained, the only sound he could hear was his pathetic sobbing. But it was coming, right? It had to come, or maybe Margaret was already dead, maybe she had been killed by him and he wasn’t even paying _attention–_

He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t stop the Horror he couldn’t do anything but sit here like a baby and sob, waiting for the blood to coat the walls. 

“Six– Six, please listen to me! Six! Can you hear me, darling?” Was that her ghost? Did he have Four’s powers somehow? He didn’t understand, how– “Six, please, you need to calm down. Breathe with me, okay? Take a deep breath–” ghosts didn’t breathe, he remembered Four telling him that at one point. Ghosts didn’t breath so how was she doing this? He painstakingly forced his hands away from his eyes, peeking through his fingers to see–

Margaret, trapped in the Horror’s clutches, the tentacles wrapped around her, but not squeezing until her bones crack, not trying to pull off her arms. They simply remained, wrapped around her torso as if it was trying to decide something. Margaret smiled as soon as his eyes caught onto hers. “I’m fine, Six, don’t worry about me. Just focus on calming down, okay? The Horror isn’t hurting me, so it’s alright to calm down. Do you want me to breathe with you?” He nodded frantically, not only because it was easier when she helped, but because if she breathed with him then he would _know_ that she was alive, that she wasn’t some sort of ghost or hallucination. 

And so the next few minutes passed, although it felt like hours, with Six breathing in as deeply and slowly as he could, trying to calm his frantic heart down, and Margaret stuck there, moments away from death, gently coaching him through his panic even as his heart rate spiked every time he caught a glimpse of the Horror. 

Eventually, somehow, the Horror started to loosen its grip, enough that Margaret wasn’t wincing anymore, and as Six breathed and his heartbeat slowed down, the Horror unraveled around her entirely. He resisted from holding his breath as the Horror’s tentacles swept across the kitchen floor, as if it was just having a final survey of its surroundings and then, impossibly, miraculously, it _willingly retreated_ back into his stomach. 

The first thing he did once he had the Horror back under his control was burst into tears. 

“I’m sorry,” he sobbed, screwing his fists into his eyes until shapes appeared. “I’m so, so sorry, i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to, i’m _sorry._ ” Fingers gently touched his wrists and he flinched away, tensing in anticipation for a hit, screaming, _anything_. But the hands don’t follow. And when the anticipation was killing him enough that he couldn’t handle it anymore, he peeked.

Margaret was sitting out of reach from him, shaking, but smiling at him as if everything was okay. “Are you feeling better?” She asked, as if he didn’t become _very_ close to killing her just minutes ago. “Let it all out, darling, there’s nothing wrong with crying." He stared at her, struck dumb as tears leaked down his cheeks. 

“But– but–” he sobbed, his throat closing up. Margaret waited, her facial expressions free of anger, or fear or– “But– don’t you hate me?” 

Her face changed, but not to anger, to distress. “ _No._ of course not, how could i ever hate such a sweet boy like you? What just happened wasn’t your fault, and you dealt with it so well! Much better than i did." She smiled bashfully, and he doesn’t _understand._

“But i could’ve killed you! You could’ve _died_ because of me!” He shouted, not even caring that he was yelling at an adult because he _didn’t understand._

“ _No._ _Not_ because of you. I–I won't deny that the Horror definitely could’ve done something to me, but the Horror _isn’t_ you. Do you understand?”

He shook his head, squeezing his eyes so hard they hurt. “It’s my fault– i’m supposed to keep it in until i have to– i need to control it, otherwise it’ll kill everyone–”

“No, Six." Margaret shuffled ever so slightly closer and Six didn’t even mind because nothing made sense, and he just wanted _Mom–_ “No one can be in control all the time. It’s just not possible." He sobbed, the prospect of losing control _again_ cutting him open. “And i don’t think it’ll be the end of the world if you do lose control.”

“ _What?_ ” He hissed. “Of _course_ it is, i could've killed you!”

“But the _Horror_ didn’t. I’m fine, Six, look. I don’t even have a bruise." She showed him her arm, where the horror had gripped her before and– she was right. It was a little red, but unhurt. How–

“I don’t get it." He mumbled, completely unable to put all the questions and feelings warring into him in words. “I don’t understand.” 

Margaret shuffled closer still, close enough that he could smell her perfume. It calmed him down far more than he’d expected. “Six, darling, can you please tell me what the Horror is to you?”

He gulped, and swallowed. “It’s– it’s evil. It wants to kill everything and i have to keep it under control otherwise it’ll kill everything.”

Magaret’s eyes were sad and open, seeing straight into his soul. “Then why do you think it didn’t kill me?”

“I don’t know!” He cried, slamming his fists into the ground. “I don’t know _anything_ about it. It kept bothering me and i thought it was hungry but it didn’t even _want_ the chicken! And it didn’t even kill you so i don’t understand–”

“Shhh, it’s okay, don’t hurt yourself, please." Her hands came over his, gently holding them in a way that caused something to uncurl in his chest. “Listen. Nobody knows the Horror better than you, but i think that maybe you still might have a lot more to learn about it." He sniffled, not saying anything, and soon enough she continued. “Did you notice that it stopped trying to hurt me as soon as you asked it too? Maybe it’s… maybe it cares what you want. I asked you to calm down because i thought that maybe it was responding to your emotions, which might be why it attacked me when i scared you. Do you think that might be it?”

He thought about it, and then shrugged, sniffling. “It never stopped for me in training, though. I– i hated the sounds of what it was doing. It never stopped." Margaret squeezed his hands. 

“Your father oversaw your training, right?” He nodded. “Maybe the Horror was just as scared of him as you were." He froze. And blinked. And slowly moved his hand to rest on his stomach. 

He’d– he’d never thought of it like that. Dad had hated his powers so much, he would make faces of disgust and zap the Horror with a cow prod if it got too close. Even when he didn’t have to kill anything Six hated it because he felt so inhuman, but it never occurred to him to wonder if the Horror had an opinion about it. 

It… it _would_ be scared of dad. Dad hurt it, and Dad trained it, same as he did to him and the others. He’d never really wondered why he’d almost had to force it out sometimes, had just chalked it up to his own inability to control his powers, but now he was thinking about it, the Horror was put in a whole new light. 

He’d been quiet for too long. He needed to say something. 

“Oh.”

Margaret smiled sadly, and rubbed his arm. “How about we go to bed now? It’s quite late, isn’t it?” He nodded, even though he knew he wouldn’t be getting any sleep anytime soon tonight. “Okay. Do you want me to get a painkiller?”

He blinked down at his stomach, where his hand was pressed tightly, and he realised that for the first time in a _long_ time, since _forever,_ his stomach didn’t hurt. Not one bit. 

“No." He felt a grin climb on his face, tentative and small, but there all the same. “No, thank you.”

* * *

“I heard a rumour that you let Stacy drink your orange juice." The girls giggled as Alex's eyes went white, and when Stacy grabbed her drink, she relinquished it easily. 

“Thanks, sarah, you’re the best!” She grinned at her, and Thre– Sarah, grinned back as Alex came back to herself and flushed red in anger.

“That’s not fair! You can’t just use your powers like that!” She snarled, pointing at her. Three pursed her lips, looking at Stacy and the other girls. 

“I heard a rumour that you walked away and never spoke to us again." The girls oohed and cheered as Alex's eyes went white once more, turning around to walk away, leaving her lunchbox behind. 

She took a bite out of her own sandwich as the girls descended on Alex’s lunch, and she grinned when Stacy nudged her, smiling wildly.

“That was _great,_ you have no idea how long we’ve been trying to get rid of her. She’s _so_ annoying.”

 _“Yeah,_ ” she agreed, nodding. She didn’t actually think Alex was particularly annoying, but she also grew up with Four as a brother, so she was sure her standards for what was annoying was warped. She definitely didn’t feel bad about rumouring Alex away, not when it made her friends like her so much. They were weird about it at first, since they’ve never seen someone with powers before, which was a very novel idea to Three, but once they got used to it, they practically _admired_ her because of everything she did for them, and she loved it. It was _way_ better than what she got with her siblings. 

Yeah, leaving her siblings and becoming what Mr and Mrs Williams wanted was hard, but it was worth it in the end. She had a great social life, parents who loved her and didn’t abuse her, and sure, maybe Two– Michael was a little distant, but it wasn’t like she cared about it. Mrs Williams always said that he would come around eventually. ‘Severely traumatised, the poor dear’ she would say, patting her hair and making Three wonder how severely traumatised _she_ was. 

“Hey, Sarah, is that your brother over there?” She blinked, pausing her thoughts and following Stacy's finger to where Micheal and his friend Eudora were sitting.

“Yeah." She shrugged, not sure why Stacy would point that out.

“He’s hanging out with _Eudora." S_ tacy sneered, and Three blinked. From the little Two’s told her of Eudora, she was nice. If nothing else, she was the only thing standing between Two and total isolation. Three would hang out with her brother more at school, but it wasn’t coolto spend time with your siblings at school.

Still, Stacy's been here longer than she had, she knew everyone here better than her. “What’s wrong with Eudora?”

“Are you kidding me? She’s like, a total psycho. She beat up a kid last year for just looking at her.” 

Three blinked, waiting for the rest, and then remembered that beating someone up was a big deal to normal people. “Oh wow." She answered lamely and Stacy nodded solemnly.

“Right? And it was a boy she beat up too. Maybe you shouldn’t let your brother hang out with her.”

She shrugged. “Nah, tw– michael can handle himself. We, uh. We had a lot of boxing training when we were kids.”

Stacy made a face. “Still. Kids that do stuff like that make all sorts of bad friends. She’s probably gonna make Micheal end up in jail or something.”

She furrowed her eyebrows. ”Michael isn’t bad!”

“I’m not saying he is! I’m just saying, maybe you should keep an eye on your brother.”

She scoffed, turning away from Stacy. She didn’t know what she was talking about, Two could handle himself just fine. 

...but he _was_ pretty easy to bully into doing stuff. All you had to do was make it a dare, and pit him against someone better than him, and he’d be willing to do anything to prove that he was better than them. Mrs and Mr Williams were very strict about what they called ‘illegal activity’. Mrs William said that ‘if you’re ever brought to me for doing anything illegal, i’ll give you a punishment you’ll never forget. I won’t tolerate delinquents in my household.’ delinquents, she later figured out, were basically bad guys, and she had made sure to be very careful to follow the rules after that, especially since she had no idea what was illegal or not. She glanced back over to Eudora and Two, except he was gone. Where was he? 

She restrained the urge to attack Stacy when her hand suddenly shot out, waving at someone instead of attacking her like she reflexively thought. She froze as soon as she realised what Stacy was saying.

“Hii, Eudora! What’re you doing on your own? Come talk to us!”

“Stacy, what are you doing?” She hissed, and Stacy grinned, shrugging. She glanced back as Eudora hesitantly stood up and walked over, something like suspicion written on her face. 

“Hi, Stacy. Hi, you’re Micheal’s sister, right?”

She plastered on a smile, waving in return. “yeah, i am. Where is he, by the way?” Before Stacy told her about Eudora, she would just assume that Two was just sitting somewhere else, or something, but now she wasn’t so sure. What if she sent Two to do something bad? What he was caught? How harshly would Mrs Williams punish him? And he would be caught, bad guys always get caught, and they were always badly punished. Killed, or locked up forever.

“Oh, Al wanted to talk to him. He’s our gym teacher. He’s probably gonna try and get him to join the boxing team." Three’s stomach clenched as she told her the obvious lie, and she gritted her teeth as her heart rate picked up. She wasn’t gearing up to fight for her life, here, she was just confronting someone who might get her brother in trouble, that was all. Her body didn’t listen, and she had to clench her hands to hide how they were shaking. 

“Al? I’ve never met him.”

Eudora raised her eyebrow. “Well, yeah? There’s more than one gym teacher, and Al acts grumpy, so most kids avoid him, but he’s cool. He lets us call him by his first name.”

Maybe Al was a friend of hers that was including her brother in her plans to do something bad. As far as she knew, the teachers here would never let anyone call them by their first name. For whatever reason, it just wasn’t done. Eudora _had_ to be lying. She could rumour her to tell the truth, but she didn’t know if she should yet. She could feel the weight of Stacy and the other girls at the table’s stares, waiting to see what would happen. 

She wasn’t going to get any help. She had to do it all on her own, like she always did. 

“That’s cool,” she murmured, “how did you meet my brother by the way? You’ve probably noticed, but he’s really not the type to make friends.”

Eudora blinked, and stared. Then her eyebrows creased together, her awkward smile falling off her face. “Are you _interrogating_ me or something? _”_

She blinked. “ _No."_ Interrogating people involved torture devices and pain, and she didn’t even touch her! Talk about overreacting“I’m just asking questions.”

“That’s what an interrogation is! Okay, look, you seem nice, but i’m gonna go." She made to stand up and her heart sped up– if she left she would get Two in trouble and Mrs Williams would thinkher brother was bad and she couldn’t let that happen–

“I heard a rumour that you told me the truth.” Eudora froze, her eyes going white, and for the first time since she first rumoured someone here, no one was laughing. “Why are you friends with my brother?”

“He was late to class. I thought he looked lonely." Her voice, empty and robotic replied. She gritted her teeth. She must be holding the truth from her, she must be hiding something even through her rumours. Only the toughest of the bad guys dad had brought had been able to resist a little bit against her power. She clenched her fists as Eudora came back from it, blinking confusedly. “What happened? What did you do to me?”

“I heard a rumour that you told me the _truth_." She ignored her obvious confusion, watching as her eyes went white again, “Why are you friends with my brother?” 

“He was– he was late to class. I thought he looked lonely. Stop it! Is this your power!?” Her eyes were wide, and Three growled.

“How are you doing this!?” She snapped, standing up. There were people staring, she realised, but that didn’t matter, because Eudora was going to get her brother in trouble, Eudora was going to get them kicked out of their home and then they would get split up and then–

“I heard a rumour you told me the truth! Tell me! _Why_ are you friends with my brother? What do you want with him!?”

“I want to be friends! Nobody wants to be friends with me since i fought that kid, so _sue me_ for _daring_ to talk to someone!”

She blinked. How much of that was the rumour and how much of that was Eudora herself? Before she could rumour her again, something pushed her, hard enough that she stumbled. She twisted around, fists clenched to face her foe, but she faltered when she realised who it was. 

“Two?”

“W-w-w-what–” he stuttered, too furious for words, “F-f-f-fuck off! Y-you c-c-c- _can’t–”_

By now she would have cut in, moved the conversation on, but she remained silent, stunned. Why was he so mad? She was helping him! She was protecting him from the punishment he would get if their foster mother found out that he was spending time with someone bad!

But before Two could finish what he was saying, Eudora ran off, tears running down her face. He faltered, looking after Eudora, and he was supposed to just sigh and walk off the other direction, or yell at her for a few minutes and cool off. But instead he glared at her, and ran off after her, stuttering out her name. 

She stood, breaths choking her, wondering why her heart was beating so hard. Everybody was staring, she realized. She couldn’t be weak in front of people like this. She gritted her teeth. 

“I heard a rumour that you all stopped staring." Heads turned back to their meal, and the oppressive silence lasted only a beat before everyone started talking again. She pretended that she didn’t notice that most of the conversations were about her. 

She turned back to her table, and sat down. “Sorry about that, where were we?”

They didn’t reply, all members of the table staring at her with wide eyes. 

“...Actually, i need to meet with someone in the library,” someone broke the silence, picking up her lunchbox and moving away. Within minutes people were parroting her, all packing up their things and moving away from Three like she was _dangerous_ or something.

She looked up as Stacy started to pack her things. “Stacy?” She stilled, her shoulders tense. “What’s going on? Why are you all leaving?”

“It’s… your powers were fun before, but– she cut herself off, shaking her head. “I’m sorry, i have to go.”

She could rumour her to come back. She could rumour them all to be her friends again. She didn’t. Instead she sat at her empty table, stewing in her anger. 

* * *

She lingered at Two’s doorway, unsure what to do. 

She didn’t know what she’d done wrong, but everyone was mad at her. Her friends were scared of her, and all she was trying to do was protect her brother.

Okay, so maybe she went a little hard on the rumouring, she could admit that. But she was just trying to make sure that Two was safe from whatever punishment Mrs Williams would give for spending time with Eudora. He was so sure that she didn’t care about him– about everything, and she _did_ care, okay? She cared a lot. It was just easier to pretend that she didn’t. 

She thought she could do it. She was a great actor, she was always the best in the make believe games they’d played as kids. But pretending for so long, being somebody she just wasn’t…

It was too hard. She was starting to crack a little among the edges, but she had no choice but to keep going, otherwise Mrs Williams wouldn’t want her anymore. Wouldn’t want _them._

She just had to explain it all to him, that was it. She was sure that he had drawn entirely wrong conclusions about what was happening, he was dumb sometimes like that. She would just explain, and he would forgive her, and everything would go back to normal. 

Her mind made up, she opened his door, the oiled hinges sliding open silently. She made sure to close it behind her. Mrs Williams didn’t like it when her perfect girl was awake past bedtime. 

She tiptoed closer to his bed. “Two?” She knew that he knew that she was here, she could tell from the way his shoulders tensed, the way that he was curled up instead of sprawled out. Had he even slept at all tonight?

She sighed, knowing that she would get the silent treatment no matter what she did, so she started talking. “i just wanted to explain to you what happened today." She started, “i know it probably looked all wrong, so–”

“looked all wrong?” To her surprise, he responded, turning around to glare at her. “T-to me it- it looked like y-you were _rumouring_ my friend!”

She swallowed, clenching her fists. “Not for fun or anything! i was just asking her some questions and she wouldn’t stop _lying–”_

“W-wh-what were you even ask-asking her?”

“I just– i just wanted to know what she wanted with you. Stacy told me that she’s bad, and you know how Mrs Williams feels about that–”

“I don’t c-care how she f-f-feels!” He snapped, sitting up in bed. “Eudora hasn’t d-done _anything_ bad! So what, she had a f-fight, like we haven’t-n’t d-done way worse! She’s my _friend._ You don’t g-get t-to ruin this for me!”

She rolled her eyes. “Okay, whatever, but you understand where i was coming from, right? i wasn’t doing anything wrong.”

“Yes you d-d-did! i d-don’t know how y-you haven’t f-figured-d it out, but getting rum-rumoured is _horrible._ Do-do you even wonder w-what it’s like? T-t-t-to have all your c-con-control t-taken from you like th-that? Me and the others were u-used to it but-but Eudora–” he stopped, pressing his lips together. “She wasn’t do-doing _anything_ wrong. She was j-just tr-trying to be friendly and-and you spat it b-back in her face!”

Uneasiness stirred in her gut, and a new feeling she was entirely unfamiliar with festered within her. She clenched her fists. “You’re overreacting–”

 _“I’m_ over-overreacting? R-really? Is it _impossible_ f-f-for you t-to think about-about _anybody_ b-but yourself?”

“I was _trying_ to protect you!”

“I don’t care!” They froze as his volume rose just a little too high, both staring intensely at the door, waiting for footsteps. None came. Two sighed, looking down. “I d–don’t c-c-care what you were try-trying to do. Y-you still _rumoured_ my friend. Go away.”

“Micheal, you can’t just–”

“Go–go away!” He snapped, turning to face away from her. _God,_ he was being– such a child! 

“Michel." No answer. She stepped closer. “Micheal!”

She could rumour him to listen to her. She could rumour him to forgive her. Instead she turned on her heel and marched out of the room, using every ounce of willpower to avoid slamming the door. 

She tiptoed back into bed, tears streaming down her face, fuming. As she laid down, she finally identified the feeling in her gut. 

Guilt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> descriptions of gore, the word psycho used as an insult, basically the Horror as a whole 😬


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sneaks in, tosses chapter, runs away*

One lay in bed, staring up into the blackness.

It was so hard to fall asleep nowadays. Back at home, he’d usually have no trouble, except for for the occasional nightmare on really bad days.

He had no idea why it was so hard to sleep. At the Group home, he _couldn’t_ sleep, plagued by the constant fear of waking up and finding that another one of his siblings had been stolen away while he had been unconscious and not _protecting_ them like he should. It didn’t make sense why he couldn’t sleep here, in Mr Peabody’s house. The only person he had left was Seven, and he knew _logically_ that he wouldn’t wake up to find that Seven had been taken to a foster home– they already were at a foster home, there was nowhere for anyone to take her, but he was still _scared._

Mr Peabody didn’t like that. He said over and over again that here was safe, that nobody was going to take Seven away, but why the hell should he believe _him?_ _He_ was the man who took them away from _Four_. He was a stranger, and Dad and experience had long taught him to never trust strangers, especially when they insisted otherwise.

No, One was on his own here, and he pretended that the thought didn’t utterly terrify him. He was the leader, and even if he was a horrible one, he couldn’t just _stop_ being the leader. All he could do was protect what he had left. For his entire life he knew exactly how his life was going to go, what he would do, the lives he would save. Now, he wasn’t even sure what would happen in the coming months. Would he and Seven be separated? Would they ever get to see any of the others again? Had dad really–

He cut off his thoughts before they went into a place that was dark and forbidden. He just had to trust dad, that was all. Trust that he had a good reason to let them be taken away and that everything would come together and make sense. He just had to trust dad.

Getting bored of staring into the same darkness, he rolled onto his side, gazing at a slightly different shade of darkness. He wasn’t going to be sleeping tonight, he just knew. He would probably get in trouble if he got up, but there was nothing else to do in the hours until morning came. He wasn’t sure if it was against the rules or not. It wasn’t allowed at home, but pretty much everything outside of home was different, even the rules. He racked his brain for any mention Mr Peabody might made about curfews, but all his mind brought up was Mr Peabody ordering them to not go inside his room.

Mr Peabody… confused One sometimes. One had made every effort to avoid talking to him, but the man still managed to corner him sometimes. But instead of giving him orders or punishing him for being so disrespectful, he simply asked how his day was going, if he was alright, if he needed something. It– it _must_ be a trick, but One couldn’t figure out what he wanted. He was also nice to Seven, bewilderingly. She talked to him more than One did, despite his best efforts to keep them separated, and every so often Mr Peabody would say something that would make Seven grin, like they had an inside joke. It had been ages since he’d seen Seven smile. He knew he should be happy about it, but all he felt was a churning sense of _wrongness_ in his gut. Seven wasn’t supposed to be happy, Seven wasn’t supposed to be _worthy_ of someone’s time, and yet this random man who stole them from their siblings found her so.

It _had_ to be a trap, Mr Peabody was just too nice for it to not be true. He hadn’t even _punished_ One yet, even though he had been acting in a way that would get him a punishment from dad in no time. He couldn’t help it, though he knew Dad would have told him to get over himself a long time ago. It just– Mr Peabody _wasn’t_ their father, no matter how much Seven seemed to think otherwise. He wasn’t like her, he was Dad’s favourite, he was the best. It made sense for Seven to be a bad daughter and betray dad, but One wouldn’t do that to him. _Couldn’t_. He was Number One, after all.

He groaned, squishing his face into his pillow. He was _tired_ of thinking, he was tired of _everything._ He shoved himself out of bed, figuring that if Mr Peabody caught him wandering around, he could just say that he wanted some water.

He tiptoed out of his room, taking the opportunity to check on Seven asleep, as she should be. Sometimes he worried that she would sneak out and do something stupid like train her powers, but there was no way that _Seven_ would do that. If there was one thing he was certain about, it was that dad _definitely_ didn’t want Seven to train her powers, and from what he’d seen from her, it was for a good reason, she could easily hurt herself really bad. He was glad she’d stopped whining about getting training, he had really started to feel bad.

He sneaked down the stairs as quiet as a mouse, and faltered a bit once he got to the bottom, unsure what to do next. Maybe he _could_ get some water, just so he had an alibi, and some water would be nice as well.

He crept into the kitchen, turning on the light so he wouldn’t accidentally break anything, and froze, his breath turning to ice in his lungs.

Mr Peabody was sitting on the kitchen table, eating a sandwich and staring back at One, wide eyed.

“I–” he choked out, his mouth instantly going dry. "I-i was just getting some water– I wasn’t sneaking around, I promise–”

“whoa, hey, it’s okay, just calm down, you’re fine." One swallowed and gasped, knowing better than to disobey orders. He forced himself to breathe before the fear overtook him, making himself calm down.

He didn’t feel calm, but his breath was under control, and he couldn’t hold up Mr Peabody for too long, so appearing calm was all that mattered. He swallowed and stood up straighter, clenching his hands into fists.

“You feeling better?" He nodded. “Good. You don’t have to be afraid of being up at night. I'm not like your Dad. You don’t have to be afraid of me.” Mr Peabody smiled and One clenched his teeth.

“I'm not scared,” he mumbled, the statement coming out a lot less brave than he wanted it too.

Mr Peabody’s smile became bemused. "Yeah, sure, that’s why you were seconds away from a panic attack when you saw me." He gritted his teeth tighter, crossing his arms as humiliation curled in his belly. "You don’t have to be brave all the time, you know. It’s okay to be scared.”

No it _wasn’t._ Mr Peabody didn’t understand. To him, their numbers were just numbers, not their status, not _them._ He knew better than to say anything, looking away.

Mr Peabody’s face softened. “Hey, don’t feel bad. I stay up late a lot too. Usually I'm working, but sometimes I just can’t _do_ anything, you know?" A pause, and then hesitantly, he nodded. He was loath to agree with whatever Mr Peabody said, but it would be rude not to reply. He nodded back, unfazed by his silence. "I guess that’s something we have in common. You wanna sit with me? We can be insomniacs together.”

Despite everything, the corner of his mouth quirked up. Three used to have a lot of trouble sleeping sometimes, and they would stay up with her on bad nights, keeping her company. He forced the memory away, dutifully sitting down and trying to think of a way he could get out of this. Whatever trap Mr Peabody wanted to spring, now was the perfect time to spring it. He should feel scared, and he did, but not as scared as he should. If Mr Peabody really was setting a trap then he was a bad guy out to get them. One knew how to deal with bad guys.

Out of everything he expected Mr Peabody to say– an evil laugh, a villainous unveiling of all his evil plans, “have you ever heard of superman?” Was not one of them.

He blinked, so stunned that the sentence slipped out of his mouth without thought. "Who?”

“I wasn’t sure if you heard of him, with a dad like yours, you never know." One squinted. What was _that_ supposed to mean? “Superman is a superhero, like you. He even has super strength.”

“Really?” One sat up straighter, his interest piqued.

“Yeah. He has _other_ powers, like x-ray vision and flying, but super strength is one of them.”

“...is he one of the forty three?" He asked, and then immediately felt dumb at Mr Peabody’s bemused look.

“No, he’s a fictional character. I grew up reading comics about him, I even watched a few movies, when my old man would let me." The last part was said bitterly, even though his Dad was nice enough to let him watch movies about superheroes.

In the resulting silence, he felt a sudden urge to keep the conversation going. "We don’t have the time to watch movies at home,” he said, and felt something in him lighten a little when Mr Peabody turned to look at him, instead of looking down at his work or his clock like Dad sometimes did. "But I've seen little bits of stuff that happen to play on tv. I don’t think I've ever seen superman.”

Mr Peabody grinned. “Remind me to show you the stuff I have of him. It’s been a while since they’ve made a movie, but they’re entertaining enough.”

He nodded, wondering if superman was a trap or if Mr Peabody had just… genuinely wanted to talk to him about something. It was difficult to believe, but what bad guy talked about fictional superheroes?

He bit his cheek, unsure what to say but unwilling to let silence take over again. "What other powers does superman have?”

Mr Peabody shrugged, “he has pretty much everything, uh, laser eyes, definitely. He’s also invulnerable. Are you invulnerable?”

One shrugged, playing with the edge of his pajama top. "I don’t know. Dad’s still training me on my strength, he hasn’t checked to see if I have other powers yet.”

Mr Peabody raised his eyebrows. "You guys can have more than one power? I didn’t know that.”

“Uh, yeah." He nodded. “Um, Two has two powers, he can throw knives and hold his breath underwater.”

“That’s awesome.” Mr Peabody breathed, and an unfamiliar feeling rose in his chest, encouraging him to square his shoulders and point to himself.

“But my powers are more useful than his, he can’t even use his secondary power to fight. And throwing knives is _lame._ ”

“I don’t know, throwing knives sounds pretty cool to me." One resisted the urge to wilt, and Mr Peabody smiled. "But I don’t doubt that your powers are seriously cool. Do you wish that you have more than one power?”

One shrugged. "Not really, I have the best power.”

“Still, the more powers the better, right? All of you kids are so damn lucky to have powers, I know I would have _killed_ for powers when I was a kid.”

He was about to nod mindlessly in agreement, until he caught up to what Mr Peabody said. How did he know that all of them had super powers? The adults would’ve told him about Seven, right? He and the others had worked so hard to keep Seven’s powers from the adults, did they somehow find out? He swallowed, twisting up his top in his fingers. He wasn’t enjoying this conversation anymore.

“We don’t… _all_ have powers." He tentatively said, watching Mr Peabody carefully for his reaction. His eyes widened slightly, then he smacked himself on the forehead, grinning goofily.

“What– _oh,_ right, of course, I completely forgot about Seven." One eyed him warily when Mr Peabody shifted on his seat, looking almost embarrassed. "I guess I just assumed. She’s really the odd one out, huh? Being born like you guys without having any powers? It’s almost impossible.”

His heart rate jumped at that, and he twisted his top even more, tearing the edge of the fabric a little. "What– what do you mean impossible?”

“Well, I guess it’s just very unlikely. Maybe she has powers, but nobody’s noticed yet. Like… I don’t know, the ability to change her eye colour.”

Heart beating fast, he barely even noticed it when– “She can’t change her eye colour,” slipped out of his mouth.

“Can’t she? Well, there must be _something_ she can do. It doesn’t make sense otherwise. Unless she was born like every other kid in the world, though I can’t imagine your dad making a mistake like that. Surely he never looked into this?”

He gritted his teeth. "Seven doesn’t have any powers! Stop asking!” He shouted before he even realised it, and he froze in the silence that followed.

“...One.” Mr Peabody said, and he resisted the urge to shrink into his seat. He should have left when he had the chance, before. "I’d appreciate it if you didn’t talk to me in that tone.”

“I'm sorry, sir. It won’t happen again." He choked out, desperately holding back tears. Leaders didn’t cry.

Silence followed, and he trembled, frozen in anticipation of his punishment. It took a long agonising minute until Mr Peabody spoke again.

“Hey. I told you that I won't punish you, and I'm not planning on going back on my word. I'm just worried, that’s all. Do you know _why_ I want to know if Seven has powers?”

He shook his head, tentatively looking up to check his expression. He seemed calm, but dad almost always looked calm, even when he was furious. Mr Peabody continued. "I need to know as much as I can about you kids so that I can take care of you properly. What if something horrible happened to Seven and I wouldn’t be able to help because you didn’t tell me whatever it is you’re keeping from me? She could _die_ and it would be your fault, so you understand why I need you to tell me?”

He was shaking now, tears welling up at the horrible scenario that Mr Peabody had put forward. He needed to protect Seven, he needed to make sure she was safe, and Mr Peabody was right, wasn’t he? What if something _did_ happen, like she lost control of her powers, and she _died_ because One was too stupid to know how to keep her safe. But– how was he supposed to trust Mr Peabody? How did he know that Mr Peabody really was trying to keep her safe? What was he supposed to say? He had to say _something,_ fast, because Mr Peabody looked more and more angry by the minute and he didn’t know if he could trust Mr Peabody’s promise and–

“She has powers." He blurted out, and suddenly, all his worries, all his fears that he’d kept bottling up for months and _months_ all poured out of him like blood from a wound. "She can– I don’t know what she can do, but she’s strong. I don’t– I don't know if she can hurt herself with them, I don’t know _what_ she can do, I didn’t know she had powers, dad didn’t _tell me–_ ” he choked off, biting his lip. With his head bowed to hide his tears, his only context for Mr Peabody’s reaction was his silence. After a few seconds he couldn’t stand it, and tentatively lifted his head to look at him.

Mr Peabody didn’t look… mad? He was smiling? Not an evil smile or a fake smile, a small, almost satisfied one that made One feel like maybe things weren’t as bad as he thought.

“Thank you for telling me that, One. I'm sorry that I upset you, but you understand why you had to tell me, right?”

He nodded, looking down at the table. Mr Peabody was just trying to do his job and look after them. He realised that now, and he almost ruined it with his paranoid overprotectiveness. His therapist at the group hom had _told_ him that it would backfire one day.

He clenched his fists, feeling like the worst brother in the world, when a hand suddenly landed on his shoulder, and he looked up to see Mr Peabody’s smiling face. "Seriously, thank you for telling me. You’re a good brother, you know that?" His chest lightened at the praise, and he pulled on a small grin of thanks. Mr Peabody softly smiled back, looking at the clock on the wall. "W _ow_ , we’ve been talking for a while. It’s almost morning. Why don’t you go to bed and see if you can get some sleep?”

He nodded, getting up to go to bed. His limbs were still trembling a little, and he was still reeling a little from the conversation.

But. Mr Peabody didn’t hurt him. Even when One had _shouted_ at him and was difficult, Mr Peabody didn’t punish him. He even apologised for upsetting him. Maybe… maybe he wasn’t as bad as One thought. If nothing else, he wasn’t planning something against his father. Looking back, that was a really stupid idea. Walking past Seven’s room, he couldn’t help but peek in again, just to check if she was all right. She was, sleeping deeply. It was One’s responsibility to make sure that she was safe. He hoped he made the right decision telling Mr Peabody about her powers.

He crawled into bed, and despite all the swirling thoughts in his brain, fell asleep almost instantly for the first time in a long while.

* * *

Four winced as the gate groaned, protesting its sudden use after what was probably years of neglect. He froze, waiting for alarm bells to ring, for people to come out running and shouting. Nothing.

He swallowed, pushing down whatever cocktail of feelings that usually arose from that. It was disorientating, going from a household where he was never allowed outside if Dad had anything to say about it to a place where his foster parents didn’t even notice he was gone, let alone cared. Being outside was still nerve wracking. He dealt with it better than the– the others had, as in he didn’t panic everytime he had to be out. He still had to force himself past the gate, out into the dangerous world without no fences, no walls, _nothing_ to keep the bad guys away.

It was scary, but staying in his foster house was even scarier. His foster father had gotten back from work, and he was in a bad mood. Even Four had figured out pretty quickly to stay out of Mike’s way at all costs. The teenagers of the house had always disappeared when that happened, and Four had always assumed that they'd just gone into their rooms until he saw all three of them sneak out, disappearing into the great unknown. Four had no intention of finding them– how could anybody find _anything_ outside? –but with the ghosts added toMike’s ranting and the baby’s non stop screaming, leaving it all to find somewhere _quiet_ sounded almost too good to be true.

Standing on the street, he leant on the fence that was the only thing keeping him from floating away. Amy stood next to him, glancing around and fervently mumbling, _don’t, don’t, don’t, don’t–”_ but she had also demanded that he get out of the house so Four didn’t know what she wanted from him.

Not allowing himself to think about it too much, Four made off in a random direction, sticking close to the fence. He hadn’t been here for long, this being the second week that Marigold and Carol had finally given up on him and shipped him off to the first people who would take him. He remembered the morning after he first arrived he’d hid in his room, feeling upset and angry and betrayed and so many other things that it was all he could do to hide under his covers and wait for the world to right itself. The ghosts didn't help, there were almost as many as there were in the group home, impressive, considering this new place was significantly smaller. At the time, he hadn’t known how long he had spent curled up in bed, had just planned to pull himself together as much as he could before somebody came to pull him back into the real world. Nobody did, and it took Four’s stomach growling horribly for him to peek out of the covers and see that it was past dinner time. And no one had come to get him.

It didn’t take him long to figure out how the household worked from there. There were five kids here, including him. Three teenagers and one baby. The teenagers were all ‘delinquents’, kids too difficult to find a home, so they were dumped anywhere who would be willing to keep them until they turned eighteen. The baby was their foster mother’s Jolene’s, and she seemed to have made it her only goal in her short life to cry as much as humanly possible. _He_ was an eleven year old with a straight path towards dying in a ditch.

He had gleaned all this from his own observations and Amy’s panicked mumbles about her past foster homes. Four had no idea how’d she left the group home with him. He had no idea how ghosts worked in general, really. Even though dad constantly harped on him to learn more about the ghosts, it was hard to want to learn about the beings that made his life hell. It wasn’t like Amy was particularly good company, the years she’d spent as a ghost had ensured that, but Four was pretty sure that she was the only person in the world who even cared about him anymore. Sure, Amy was barely aware of what was happening half the time, but at least she seemed to have a vested interest in keeping him from ending up just like her, which was more than what pretty much anyone in the world could say.

And wasn’t that ironic? His only friend was a ghost. Past him would be crying with laughter.

At least she _tried_ to keep him safe, she usually was confusing and often didn’t actually help, but she cared as much as she was able, and it was all Four could do to cling onto that.

He had no allies here, no one did. Last night one of the teenagers– Alex, he thought, had come back home with something in his pockets that Mike didn’t like. He wasn’t sure what it was, since it was in a little plastic bag and there was far too much yelling for him to figure out what it actually was, but whatever it was, it got Mike very, very angry.

Nobody had spoken up to his defence as the punishment was administered, and later that night the walls were so thin that Four had heard him quietly sobbing in his bed. If it were anyone of his siblings then he would’ve climbed out of bed and into theirs, telling them dumb jokes and funny stories until they finally stopped crying and laughed. Four couldn’t do that with Alex, didn’t know him well enough to. He had remained quiet for a long time, until guilt forced him to knock softly on the wall, cutting off the sobs almost instantly.

“I'm sorry,” he had said and nothing else. He didn’t know what he _could_ say, all he knew was that he felt guilty and he wanted it to _stop._ Alex hadn’t said anything, and Four eventually drifted off to sleep. In the morning Alex had completely ignored him, and Four had taken that for the message it was.

It wasn’t all bad, he guessed. It seemed like as long as he stayed invisible and out of the way he would be left alone. Like Seven, he realised and forced himself to huff out a laugh. That was funny, right? Who would ever imagine that crazy Number Four would ever be striving to be like Seven?

He had no idea where he was going, this place was so different from where the academy was. It was quieter, smaller buildings and less shops, less people, at least, he thought so. It was hard to tell with _them._ He’d developed the habit of looking at the ground as much as possible, because if he was looking around then he might accidentally make eye contact with a ghost and then–

He was doing his best not to look around, and several times already he had seen someone too late, only to flinch and shudder when he walked right through them. He wouldn’t be worrying about this if he had drugs or alcohol or _anything_ that got rid of the ghosts.

Amy was no help. He had a feeling she was still furious with him for ignoring her and stealing the drinks anyway, but it was kinda hard to tell when she didn’t seem to remember conversations they had hours ago. Still, despite how she lived her life, she maintained a very anti-drug stance, demanding he stay away from the teenagers and screaming so loudly his ears rang when he had investigated the medicine cabinet for anything he could use to catch a break. Nothing, it had already been locked, and he practically had a headache from the ghosts _all_ the time now. It wasn’t _that_ much better outside, but at least there were no living household members to add to his grief.

He slowed down to a stop when the fence he was following gave way to a clearing filled with grass and some trees. Instantly, he was hit with a wave of anxiety as he took in the– completely _open_ space, nowhere to hide, bad guys potentially lurking _everywhere._ He closed his eyes, gritting his teeth. It wasn’t _fair_ that the open was so scary as well as spaces that were too small. He felt claustrophobic in the foster house, sometimes, with the ghost all around him and his room so much smaller than he was used to–

He just wanted a break. Was that too much to ask for? Just a moment of silence without fear or pain? Apparently not. He sighed, and resigned himself to walking the edge of the clearing– it was probably a park, he realised. Staying next to the fence made him feel just a little bit safer, even as the fence evolved into a brick wall and wasn’t comfortable leaning against anymore.

_“Don’t… don’t go there, it’s dangerous, don’t–”_

“How is it dangerous? I'm just walking." He snarked, noting that the wall ended just up a little ahead. That wasn’t good. He usually tried to avoid talking to Amy in public, especially when there were people around, but– it was just _nice_ talking to someone every once in a while, even if he wasn’t entirely sure how much she understood sometimes. She had good days and bad days.

He slowed to a stop once when he finally realized that there were murmurs coming from behind the wall, talking murmurs, not distant ghosts screaming murmurs. Maybe that was what Amy was talking about.

He dithered, unsure what to do. He didn’t want to get into trouble with any living people right now, but he didn’t want to walk all the way back, nor did he want to leave the safety of the wall to walk around them.

Stuck on deciding what to do, with Amy unhelpfully chanting at him to leave, he noticed that there was some smoke coming from behind the wall where the conversation was coming from. Were they playing with fire?

...he _did_ really miss messing with fire.

He stepped forwards, quietly, making sure his shoes didn’t make a sound on the grass. He crept up to the corner, peeking around to see–

Alex? And the other teenagers from the foster home. Was this where they all went?

 _“No, no!! Get away from them!”_ Amy screeched, and Four ignored her.

Heart beating fast, he tried to backtrack, but was stopped by a “oh my god, is that the new kid? I'm hallucinating, tell me I'm hallucinating.”

“No, I see him too.” Alex mumbled, despite the fact that his eyes were closed. They were all smoking something, he noted curiously. His only exposure to smoking was Dad’s pipe, and Pogo had been very sure to tell him how bad it was for you when he’d asked about it.

“Uh– hi, guys! What are you doing on this fine day?”

“What’re _you_ doing? You’re like six, you should be at home.”

“I'm not six? For your information, I'm almost twelve.”

“Did you hear that? The kid’s practically grown up!” they all burst into laughter, and Four resisted the urge to curl into himself. Instead he leaned against the wall, pretending like he didn’t care. "What’re you doing?" He repeated.

“What does it look like?" Alex mumbled. “Getting high.”

“High?” Like the funny feelings that came with taking too much medicine? He sat down, shuffling closer, and a girl who’s name slipped his mind groaned.

“Oh my god, don’t get comfortable, we’re not teaching you this.”

“Come on, Becks, he’s just a kid.”

 _“Exactly._ ”

“I'm almost twelve,” he helpfully piped up and the girl– Becks, sighed, inhaling smoke. There was a moment where nobody said anything, and then, “so what’s it like?”

“What, being high?" Alex blinked, and sighed when Four nodded. "I don’t know, it’s just nice. It makes you all relaxed and numb. Pretty useful after _this." H_ e pointed at his bruised cheek and Four bit his lip, thinking. Would it get rid of the ghosts? It must, right? Getting drunk and getting high from meds were both _basically_ the same thing and _they_ both got rid of ghosts.

“Can I try?”

_“No.”_

“what?”

The third teenager didn’t even say anything, just bursting into laughter.

Alex lolled forwards, the bruises on his skin starkly contrasting against his red and half-lidded eyes. "You know what? Sure.”

“What? Come on Alex, he’s like, eight.”

“I'm _eleven._ Come one, just once!”

 _“_ It’s _fine._ Don’t inhale too much." He said, passing over the joint and Four held it awkwardly between his fingers, unsure what to do with it. He put the end to his lips, inhaling– and instantly became overcome with hacking coughs.

“I just told you not to inhale too much! God, you’re useless. Hey, don’t you dare tell Mike about this, okay? I shared our weed with you, that’ll mean you’ll get in trouble too.”

“I won’t” he choked out in between coughs. _Urgh,_ that was _horrible._ He didn’t even feel any different, Amy was still definitely here, screaming at him so loud it was hurting his ears. "I feel the same." He muttered, and Alex grinned.

“Wait for it.”

He sighed, sitting down and waiting for whatever it was. His head hurt from Amy’s screaming, and his mouth was dry. He should’ve drank something before he left the house. What time was it even anyway?

The other teens bantered and eventually forgot he was there, minus the times when he managed to annoy them into having another try.

He barely even realised it when– it was quiet. Everything was quiet and his ears were left ringing in the absence. He didn’t care, though. It was quiet. _It was quiet._

“You okay there?" He swallowed thickly when he realised that his eyes were tearing up. It was just– it was just so _nice_ for everything to be so quiet and _peaceful_. Everything was so nice and good.

“I told you he shouldn’t have any.”

“Relax, he’s fine.” Alex didn’t even look over, waving his hand dismissively.

“Yeah, Becks,” he forced out, “I'm _fine,_ better than you were your first time, I bet." They erupted with laughter, and he flinched as Alex attacked him– no, it wasn’t an attack it was just a slap on the back. Two did it sometimes. He pulled his mouth into a grin, and shuffled closer, trying to snatch Alex’s joint, he protested, but ultimately relented, letting him have another. Becks didn’t say anything this time, _nobody_ said anything, actually.

He didn’t even realise it, so swept up in the sudden peace that he felt, but amy was gone. Any was gone. Was that a good or bad thing?

“Who’s amy?”

Oh, he said that out loud. “Doesn’t matter. Come onn, let me have another, I promise I won't breathe deeply this time.”

Alex shoved him away and he got up, smiling genuinely for the first time in ages.

* * *

He didn’t know how long it had been, _hours_ probably, spent laughing and joking and enjoying the blissful _peace_ he got from the ghosts.

James, the kid who didn’t really speak much, sighed. "I think… we have to go back now.” Everyone groaned. "Seriously. It’s getting dark.”

“Do we _have_ to, though?” Four slumped, grinning. "I'm having so much fun.”

“Yeah, we do. Remember Mike?” Four didn’t react, but Alex definitely did, stiffening up and ruining Four’s use of him as a pillow.

“Yeah. You’re right. Let’s go.” Alex stood up, letting Four fall to the ground. Four pouted, and blinked at all the serious faces.

Walking back was a little hard, but he wasn’t scared or afraid because the ghosts were gone and there were people all around him who instead of baying for his attention, were simply existing around him, shielding him from the world.

He just– wow, he just couldn’t believe it. There was a way to get rid of the ghost while also feeling good? It was almost unbelievable, he _had_ to find a way to get high again. What was it that they said they were smoking? Weed? Like weeds from the garden?

Urgh, he’d think about it later, no point in ruining his good feelings with boring thoughts. They were almost at their foster home anyway. They all stopped in front of the front door, none of them willing to open it.

Four swallowed, anxiety dully pressing in. "Will we be in trouble?" He murmured, and the teenagers all looked at him, surprised, like they just noticed he was there. Beck's head shot up to look at James and Alex.

“We can’t let him come with us. Mike isn’t the type to hold back just because he’s little.”

He sighed, “I'm not _little–”_

“No, he isn’t.” Alex murmured, like he hadn’t spoken at all. He looked down at him, nodding to the side of the house. “C’mon, you can sneak in through the side. You won’t be able to handle Mike like we can.”

He wrinkled his nose as Alex grabbed his arm and pulled him away. "Yes I can _._ I've dealt with _way_ worse. My dad used to lock me in the mausoleum!”

“Sure he did.” Alex mumbled. Opening the door as quietly as he could. He pushed Four inside, shushing him when he whined. “Listen, you can go up to your room and pretend like you were there all day. Me and the others will deal with Mike.”

“You don't need to protect me, I'm a superhero.”

“Just go straight to your room, okay? Don’t run into anyone." He turned to leave, and Four assumed that was the end of the conversation until– “uh. It’s okay, by the way. For a few nights ago.” Four blinked uncomprehendingly and Alex shook his head. "Nevermind. Don’t be stupid.”

“That’s my specialty." He mumbled, even when no one was left to hear it. He was so alone here. There weren’t even any ghosts in the yard.

He shook his head, and focused on getting up undetected. Luckily, it was a success, and he instantly fell onto his bed, determined to do nothing but enjoy the nice feelings he _never_ got to have.

Shouts and thumps coming from downstairs soon ruined it, and he whined, shoving a pillow over his head. It didn’t last for long, everything soon becoming quiet. He could hear the tv. He couldn’t hear that before, with all the ghosts. Just because it was quiet didn’t mean that the danger had passed, he knew, so he stayed still, hiding under his bed, waiting. He wasn’t feeling so floaty and nice anymore, but everything was still quiet, so it didn’t matter.

Hours– minutes? Later, there were thumps as someone walked up the stairs, and Four tensed until he realised that the footsteps only went to next door. It was Alex. Without thinking, he poked his head out of his blankets, knocking on the wall.

“Alex? Are you okay?” No answer. Four sighed, resigning himself to a lonely (but quiet!!) night until–

“...Yeah. He didn’t go too hard on us.”

He swallowed. "I'm sorry.”

“Don’t be. You’re just a kid.”

“I don’t feel like one." He murmured, and Alex didn’t respond. His eyes had started to slip close when Alex piped up.

“Hey, what’s your name again? I wasn’t actually paying attention when you arrived. It’s some sort of number, right?”

He stared into the darkness, where Amy would be if he wasn’t still high. He remembered that first night they met, when he was scared out of his mind and she drew his attention simply by calling him a strange name. He had no idea if she was lying or not about seeing his name on a paper, or if she had just mistaken him for someone else, but– if it really _was_ Mom's paper–

He swallowed, his heart was beating hard and fast. "No,” he said, the betrayal laying thick on his tongue. "It’s not. My name is… My name is Klaus.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> becks: hey maybe we shouldn't give a kid drugs?  
> Klaus and alex: yall hear smth?
> 
> dfghjkjhgfds anyway hoped you enjoyed!! next chapter will be about certain somebodies’ birthday...
> 
> content warnings: underage drug abuse, heavily implied physical abuse, emotional abuse, emotional manipulation


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> birthday time! ~yay~

“~Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you!~”

Diego resisted the urge to slump in his seat, as the Mrs Williams-approved people sang as if they cared. They were twelve, now. They were twelve and they were still all _separated_ from each other, forced to celebrate their birthdays with near strangers. 

Noticing his foul mood, Mr Williams squeezed his shoulder, just a touch too tight, as if to remind him that Mrs Williams was standing right next to him, ready to pounce on the slightest hint of weakness. Allison, as always, was perfect. Smiling and talking and acting delighted by her slice even though Diego knew for a _fact_ that she hated chocolate cake. They hadn’t talked since their argument, except when they had to. They couldn’t let Mr and Mrs Williams know that they were fighting, Mrs Williams would insist on helping them ‘talk it out’ and she’d pry out every single detail and probably force him to stop being friends with Eudora. He knew what she thought about ‘bad kids’ and Eudora was technically one, even though the guy that she beat up totally deserved it.

He was so glad that she was still friends with him. She had been so upset by what Allison did, which was fair, especially since she’d never been rumoured before like he had, and it had taken her a few days to recover, during which Diego was positive their friendship was over. Against all odds, Eudora came back, and told him that she still wanted to be friends, as long as she didn't have to talk to Allison. 

That was more than fair to him, and he even helped her avoid Allison when she happened to walk by them in the hallways. She was always alone now, no longer flocked by the annoying girls who’d giggle behind their hands and sneer at them. He hadn’t needed to help Eudora avoid her, she never tried to talk to them. 

Good. While Eudora had, for some unfathomable reason, wanted to keep being his friend, he was still furious at Allison. Even if she hadn’t cost him his friendship she still hurt his friend. She had tried to apologise to him, but Diego could feel how hollow it was. She didn’t really feel bad, she just wanted to end the argument. She _still_ didn’t understand why he was so upset. She never would. 

“Micheal.” Mrs Williams snapped him out of his thoughts as she sat next to him, her lips pulled into a plastic smile. “Why are you sitting there all alone? There are so many people who want to talk to you.” She waved at the party, who after the cake had been served, had wandered off to talk, no longer standing suffocatingly close. He knew practically no one, them being the neighbours that Mrs Wiliams thought were suitable enough to attend her ‘precious babies’’ party, which meant that they were all mind numbingly boring and weak. Diego bet he could take out like, five of them all on his own. To his surprise, none of Allison's friends were here, even though she had excitedly talked about how many she was going to invite to their birthday party before their argument. He wished that he’d been allowed to invite Eudora, she’d make everything much more fun.

“I–” he clenched his jaw, trying to ignore the insults his mind threw at him in favour of picturing the word in his mind. Mrs Williams always insisted that if he couldn’t talk without stuttering, he shouldn’t talk at all. “I– I need the t–toilet.” He jumped up, despite not being given permission and ran into the hallway and down to the bathroom. The only thing that stopped him from reaching safety was the locked door. He grit his teeth and resisted the urge to tug back and forth at the handle. He already told Mrs Williams where he’d be, if he tried to hide anywhere else, he’d get in trouble. He sighed and leaned against the wall next to the door, waiting for whoever it was to come out. 

He waited. And waited. 

Ten minutes later, they still weren’t out. Gritting his teeth, he thumped the door. “Hey! There are other p-people here, you know!”

“...Two?” Came the muffled reply. 

He blinked. “Three?” He’d thought that she was out at the party, having fun with her friends. What was she doing there? 

There was a long pause where nothing was said, and then the gentle _click_ of the lock opening, deafening in the silence. He hesitated, unsure if he even _wanted_ to talk to Allison after what she did, but despite his anger telling him to do otherwise, he opened the door.

Allison was sitting on the edge of the bathtub, hugging herself and looking miserable. He closed the door behind him and locked it, fidgeting awkwardly. 

“...What’s wrong?” He finally said, just to break the silence. 

Allison sighed and rubbed her forehead, then looked up at him with an expression he couldn’t place. “What–” she started and swallowed. “What does being rumoured feel like?”

He stared. Out of everything he expected her to ask, that wasn’t it. He had expected her to be upset because one of her party friends said she didn’t like her dress or something. She had been acting more withdrawn since their fight, but he’d just assumed that was because she was giving him the silent treatment. That was how almost all their fights ended, with them ignoring the main issue until the wound eventually scabbed over and they could talk without tearing out each other’s throats.

Bringing up the main point of their fight, as well as calling him by his number where anyone could hear her, was a very out of character thing to do. For a second, he almost wanted to ask her if she was okay, if she needed to talk, but the red anger that kept him safe for so long overrode his concern. 

“What, so now you c-care?”

She scowled, the nervousness on her face turning into safe, familiar anger. “You’re the one who asked me if I knew what it was like. I– I'm just trying to _understand_.”

He was tempted to make another snarky reply, to insult her until she went away and left him alone. But… he _did_ ask her that, and it looked like it got her thinking. Enough that she would do something so out of character as to make an effort to understand someone. It was just how she was, she either instinctively knew how someone worked, or she didn’t. How many times had he wished that she thought about other people than herself for once? now that he was finally getting it, he wanted to push her away, to punish her for taking this long to be a decent person. 

A memory of Mom pulling him into a hug when he got his first sentence out without a stutter rose, unbidden. _Better late than never,_ she had said, peppering his forehead with kisses. His heart twisted, and he clenched his fists against it. 

“...It’s– horrible. I g-guess. When you rumour me, it– it makes me feel like I'm not a– not a _person._ It’s like we’re-it’s like we’re just puppets to you.”

She blinked, her eyes widening. “You’re _not._ You’re not just puppets to me. It’s just– easier, to rumour people rather than wasting time arguing.”

“Is it worth it, though? T–to make us feel like that just-just because you d-d-don’t want to d-do things the hard way?”

She grimaced, like she had swallowed a large pill, “I don't know _how._ ”

He opened his mouth, and closed it, not knowing what to say. Giving up, he walked over to sit next to Allison, leaning against the side of the bathtub. The tap was dripping, a spot of imperfection in this otherwise sterile, white bathroom. 

He counted thirty taps before Allison spoke again. “Am I a bad person?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. It dep– it depends on who you ask, I g-guess.”

Allison swallowed. “Do you think I'm a bad person?”

“No. You’re my sister.” He said without thinking, and was surprised by how surely it came out. 

“I was just trying to protect you.” He didn’t need to clarify what she was talking about. 

“You didn’t _need_ to.”

“Well, I didn’t know that.” She stared at the ground for a moment before slumping, like a puppet that had its strings cut. “I ...Shouldn’t have rumoured her, though. I didn’t know better, but I shouldn’t have done it.”

He crossed his arms. “Well, you can’t change the past.” He felt so tired. It was like someone had pierced a hole in him and caused all the anger to leak out, leaving a hallowed husk.

“Two.” She said, and he was learning that she only called him that when she wanted him to listen. “I'm _sorry_. I'm really, really sorry.”

He sighed. She was telling the truth, this time. “t-tell Eudora that, and we’re g-good.” She nodded minutely.

“...I miss them.” She murmured, and the sadness he’d been trying to ignore grew in size. He swallowed down the lump in his throat. 

“I miss them t-too.”

* * *

“~Happy birthday dear One and Seven!~” Leonard sang as he placed the cake in front of them. It was impressive looking, clearly bought from a shop, except for the pipework that was a much lower quality than the rest of the cake. Tears threatened to choke her as soon as she realised that Leonard piped the little message himself just for them.

_Happy birthday 1 & 7! _♥

She knew by now that Leonard would never exclude her like Dad and the others did, but it was still so nice to see undeniable existence that someone thought of her and deliberately included her. It was hard to believe, sometimes. One didn’t seem to be as impressed as she was, but he smiled anyway when Leonard cut him a slice. 

“Thank you, Leonard.” She smiled, and flushed when he ruffled her hair. 

“No problem, kid. Once you finish your slices, you can open your presents.” Seven perked up, eating just a little bit faster. On their birthdays at home, Dad never allowed them presents, though they all got to share a cake, though pogo would sometimes give them the presents that Mom made without Dad noticing. Stuff like their names embroidered along with something that reminded her of them, or if she couldn’t quite pull that, she’d give each of them a hug and tell them how much she loved them. 

She missed her. 

She shook her head a little. She shouldn’t think about sad things on their birthday (or the fact that the others were somewhere out there, celebrating their birthdays on their own-) she took a bite of the cake, savouring the sweetness. It was weird to see so much of the cake left over, so much that Leonard said that they could have it for dessert over the next few days. 

“You finished, guys?” They nodded, and Leonard grinned, running off to the other room and bringing back two presents, all wrapped up. She perked up a little. Mom never had the chance to wrap their presents, and Seven had always wanted to unwrap one. 

Leonard placed down the smaller one in front of Seven, and her heart sank just a bit, as One was given the bigger, flatter one. 

Well, she definitely wasn’t going to be ungrateful, just because she’d been spoiled the past few months. She picked it up to pull the paper off, blinking curiously at the wood that was revealed underneath. She pulled away the paper completely, and gasped once she realised what it was. 

It was her, made out of wood and playing the violin, a sweet little smile on her face. She stared at it, taking in all the details, and finally looking up at Leonard to see him watching her carefully. 

“Do you like it?” He asked, a smile on his face. “I carved it myself. I know that it’s not something a twelve year old would want, but–”

“I love it,” she said, and flinched as soon as she realised that she interrupted him. Leonard didn’t get angry or moved to take away her present, though. He smiled, looking genuinely pleased.

“That’s good! I worked hard on it, it would’ve been a shame to have let all these hours go to waste. Oh, One, how do you like your gift?”

She glanced over, and saw that one’s gift was a book. She dared to lean in to peak at the cover and saw a man dressed in red and blue flying in the sky, declaring himself superman. She didn’t recognise him, but Leonard grinned.

“It’s superman, remember? This is the collection of comics about him I had when I was younger. I thought you should have it.”

One fingered the blunt edges of the book- it was clearly quite old- and nodded, smiling a little. “Thank you, Mr Peabody.” She didn’t know that he liked superhero stuff, she thought that he liked astrology and stuff like that, but she guessed that Leonard would know better than her. 

Leonard grinned, and glanced at the clock. “Oh sh– I should’ve gone back to work like, an hour ago!” He laughed awkwardly. “Good thing the shop isn’t very popular, huh? But before I go, Sev, can I talk to you about something?” She nodded, and he smiled, looking up at One. “Hey, buddy, why don’t you go and check out your comic book? Page forty seven is my favourite.” That was a dismissal in disguise if Seven ever heard one. Leonard didn’t tend to give out direct orders, he hid them in suggestions and favours, but they were just as important to listen to. Her and One had made the mistake of not realising this a few times when they first arrived, but now they knew. One nodded, gripping his book tightly and headed to his bedroom.

She turned back to Leonard, still enamoured by her little figurine. “What did you want to tell me?”

“Well, nothing, really. I wanted to ask you a few questions.”

She nodded, sitting up straighter. She stroked the hair of her little wooden self for comfort as her brain imagined all the ways this conversation could go wrong. Leonard could see the tenseness in her face, and softened.

“Hey, don’t worry, it’s just about something your brother told me a few nights ago. He said that you have powers.”

She froze. Why would One tell him that? _He_ was the one who decided that it should be kept a secret, because obviously Dad had a reason to, right? But then he went and told Leonard. Was that just a cruel prank? Was he angry that she had powers? Was he trying to trick her into never using her powers again? 

She swallowed hard, clenching her present so hard her fist shook. “Oh.”

“...Well, do you?” 

She blinked. Was he going to listen to her word over One’s? Not likely, people rarely did, but Leonard was different from most people. He _liked_ her, he didn’t think that she should be hidden away just because she was ordinary, which she wasn’t even in the first place. She almost wanted to say no, to be a good girl and listen to her brother, but a dark and ugly feeling held her back. Why _should_ she listen to One? All he’d ever done was ignore her because Dad told him to and control her and the others under the pretence of ‘protecting’ them. She was tired of constantly being told what to do, how to use her powers. They had been taken away so that _wouldn't_ happen. 

She hesitated, just for a second, and nodded. “Uh, yeah, I do. I– I don’t really understand how it works, but…” she trailed off, knowing that Leonard wouldn’t want to listen to her ramblings. 

Leonard raised his eyebrows, leaning forwards. “but?”

She smiled, just a little bit. “But– I _love_ using it. It’s so fun, and I feel so strong. I wish I could use it more!”

“Well, why can’t you?”

She slumped a little. “One doesn’t want to let me. He says it’s too dangerous, and that we should wait till we see Dad again to tell him about my powers.”

Leonard sighed, looking sad. “I'm sorry, he shouldn’t control you like that." A thrill of vindication rushed through her, and Leonard leaned in closer, like he was going to tell her a secret, “to be honest, I worry about One sometimes.”

She blinked. “Why?”

“Well, he– how do I say it? He has something I'd call Stockholm syndrome. I've seen it before.”

She blinked. “What is it?”

“It’s where someone can love the person who hurt them so much, that they’ll let the person hurt them. They’ll even fight to stay with them if they're taken away.”

She thought about the day they left, the way that One had cracked the porcelain floor just by slamming his fists into it, crying like a petulant child. “Oh.” She said, for lack of anything better coming to mind. 

Leonard nodded slowly, looking at her consolingly. “Sometimes, the victim even does bad things to help the abuser, like what One did, trying to control your powers. You can’t always trust them.” She swallowed and nodded, feeling small. She wasn't close with one, but the thought of him having Stockholm syndrome scared her. She wanted to trust him, but how can she know that she could?

There was a beat of silence until Leonard nudged her arm. 

“Aw, don’t look so sad! You’ve got me, don’t you?” She nodded, smiling a little. Leonard sat up straighter like an idea had occurred to him. “hey, I just thought of something that I think you’ll really like.” She leaned forwards, interest piqued. Leonard smiled. “Why don’t we start training your powers? We can figure out how it works, and make you stronger.”

She gasped. “Yes! I would love that! Um– I mean–”

“Don’t you dare apologise, being excited isn’t banned under my roof.”

“Okay.” She breathed, smiling. She was going to train her powers. She was going to train her powers! She was going to be strong, she was going to be extraordinary. She wished that the others were here, so that she could show them that she wasn’t the weak, scared little Seven they knew anymore. Well, seeing them at all would be nice. 

She shook her head. She didn’t want to be sad on her birthday, especially not on the _best_ birthday of her life. 

Even though Leonard said that excitement was allowed, she didn’t want to push it too much. She hid her face in her arm and grinned as hard as she could, bouncing her feet up and down. She was finally going to be extraordinary.

Unbeknownst to either of them, One stood behind the door, just out of sight, fighting back tears. 

* * *

“~Happy birthday to you!~” Margaret smiled as she placed the cake on the table. It wasn’t impressive looking, homemade with shoddy icing work. Mom made way better cakes at home. He crossed his arms as Six smiled wide, clapping.

“Five, help me blow out the candles.”

“No.” He answered, even though it looked fun. Dad never let them have candles on their cake.

“Suit yourself.” he breathed deeply and blew all twelve candles out after a few tries. Margaret whooped and clapped.

“You’re twelve now, boys! Tell me, how does it feel? Are you super mature now?”

Six opened his mouth to respond, but Five beat him to it, “We’re not even _twelve_ yet, we were born in the afternoon.” 

Margaret smiled, infuriatingly unaffected. “Well, yes, but that’s just a technicality. It’s called a birth _day_ for a reason, not a birth hour.”

“This is stupid.” He crossed his arms again and slumped down in his seat. Margaret didn’t react, didn’t hit him or yell at him. She just cut out generous portions of cake, giving it to both of them. He vowed not to touch it.

“Thanks, Margaret.” Six smiled, betraying Five once and for all. Didn’t he care that the others weren’t here? Wasn’t it eating him up inside? Did he even _miss_ them?

“Of course.” Margaret smiled. They busied themselves eating their cake. Five stubbornly sat, refusing to even pick up his fork. Margaret noticed, he knew she did, because she raised her eyebrows at him when she realised that she wasn’t eating, but she didn’t say anything. 

She finished her slice before Six did, placing down her fork with a solemn expression. Five reluctantly paid attention. “Boys, I just want to say that I'm sorry that I couldn’t get your siblings so you could all have your birthday together.”

Six wilted a little at the reminder and Five scowled. “Why _couldn’t_ you? Why can’t you just call them and bring them here?”

Margaret sighed. “It’s not as simple as that.” 

“Isn’t it? I bet you’re making everything up. I bet you’re just _telling_ us that you can’t reach them to make us stay! Is that it!?”

“Five, I need you to take a deep breath–”

“Fuck you! I want to see them! Where are they?”

“I'd appreciate it if you didn’t curse at me–”

“Why can’t we just _see_ them!” It exploded out of him, and he panted in the resulting silence. Something wet slipped down his cheek, and he screwed his eyes shut.

“Five–” Margaret started, but he teleported to their bedroom before she could tell more lies.

His lungs weren’t working right, pulling in air too quickly. He gasped and held his breath. It only made him dizzy, but it was better than panting uncontrollably for no reason. Margaret hadn’t even got _mad_ at him, why was he shaking?

He growled and wiped away the blurriness that built in his eyes, stomping over to his notes that spread out on his desk. He let himself get lost in his calculations, running through the different solutions for a problem that just wouldn’t _fix_ itself. He was getting close, he could feel it, but the fact that they’d been separated from each other long enough to have their birthdays was unacceptable. He should’ve been better, he should’ve _worked_ harder, maybe then he and his siblings would be safe in the future, away from any adult that would want to tear them apart. 

By the time he snapped back into the real world, it was getting dark, and Six was sitting in his bed, reading a book. Five hadn’t seen it before. Six looked up at him. “Back in the real world?”

He sighed, stretching his back that was sore from bending over for so long. Six crossed his arms. “Why were you like that? Margaret was just trying to give us a good birthday, and–”

“Why do you like her so much?” He snapped, “she’s the reason why we can’t see the others– why he had to celebrate our _birthday_ without them.”

Six sighed, pressing his hand to his stomach, like the Horror was bothering him. “I just do, okay? Sue me for liking the one person who’s nice to us–”

“She’s _lying_ to us! How can it be that hard to just call up the group home and ask to talk to them–”

“They’re not at the group home anymore.”

He froze. “What?”

Six sighed, looking tired. “You’d know this if you actually talked to Margaret. I asked why she was having trouble and she said they’ve all moved into foster homes. She’s been trying to get a hold of them, but it’s hard even _getting_ their numbers–”

“You’re so _naive.”_ He growled, his mind running a thousand miles an hour. If the others were gone, then he’d have to find them in order to get them. He’d really thought that they’d still be at the group home, but of course that was naive, how could he so _stupid_ and overlook such an important part of the plan? Six opened his mouth like he was going to retort, but he closed it, sighing. 

“Your present is on your pillow, by the way. You didn’t notice when Margaret put it next to you.”

He clenched his fists, feeling deeply distrubed that she was in their room without him noticing. He walked over to his bed and picked it up. It was a quantum physics book, a proper adult one that was thick, with a tiny font and almost no pictures. 

He was hit with the sudden urge to rip out all the pages one by one, to destroy any pretences of affection Margaret kept forcing on him, but he pushed the urge down. The stupid book might acutally help him. He’d have to read it to be sure. 

Stuck seething with nowhere for the anger to go, he tossed the book at his bed and made his way downstairs. To do what, he didn’t know, but he couldn’t stay in their suffocating room anymore. Margaret was watching her soap operas on tv again, as evidenced by the muffled sound of tinny arguing through the walls. When Six had asked, she said that she just loved petty drama, loved how much it mattered to the characters on tv. Four would be a great tv partner for her, he thought with a snort. Like Four, her entire world shrank down to the screen when watching trashy tv, and unless Five walked up to her, she probably wouldn’t hear him. 

He lingered in the kitchen, for lack of anything better to do. His slice was still sitting on the table, waiting to be eaten. He looked around him and grabbed the fork, taking a small bite. Just so he knew what it tasted like. It was good, simple and sweet, and for some reason the thought filled him with anger. He couldn’t _like_ anything Margaret gave him, he couldn’t let himself get ensnared by her affections like Six had. He turned away from the cake, scowling at the wall. His eyes flickered to the phone that sat on a small table, and an idea came to mind.

He walked over to the phone, picking it off the receiver and looking at the numbers Margaret had written on the post it notes that decorated the table. One looked like it was written recently, with the words _brown residence_ written above the phone number. He hesitated, then dialed the number. After all, what did he have to lose?

He listened to the phone as it rang, tapping his foot impatiently as he waited for whoever was on the other end to pick it up. Hopefully they could get him closer to figuring out where the others were. 

There was a _click_ , then an achingly familiar voice, “uh, hello? Who’s this?”

His body turned to ice. _“Four?”_

* * *

“Alexx, please, just a hit?”

“Nope,” Alex moved his joint out of the way of Four’s grabby hands, “Becks said no, and I know better than to mess with Becks.”

“Damn right.” Becks smirked, snatching Alex’s joint and taking a deep inhale. “You’re just a kid, Klaus, I don't know why you want to get high so bad.”

Amy sobbed next to him, trying but failing to get Alex's attention, already tired of trying to get Four’s attention. “Do I need a reason?”

“Yup. You have to have a deep traumatic reason to do drugs otherwise they won’t let you into the premium weed club.”

“There is no premium weed club!”

“I'm sure somewhere in the world, there’s a premium weed club." Alex mumbled, oblivious to Amy's screaming. He huffed. If he were high and free of the distractions that were the ghosts, he was sure that he’d be more than willing to talk more about the premium weed club, but he had a really bad headache and his heart was hurting because it was their birthday today and he was _alone_. He didn’t want to sit and talk about weed clubs, he didn’t want to do anything but see the others again. 

He sighed, “well, if you’re not gonna let me have any, then I don’t know why I should stay with you losers,” this prompted mock cries and accusations and Klaus ignored them all, and would honestly love to stay and joke with them, with or without getting high but he just wasn’t in the _mood_ today.

Amy took a while, but she eventually caught up, sniffling to herself quietly. She was really getting on his nerves. “Why are you always crying so much?” He hissed. “I'm pretty sure you didn’t used to cry this much. Actually I'm very sure, what’s up with you?”

_“It’s– that’s Alex, he’s–”_ he waited, but that was all she seemed able to say. He sighed. 

“Yup, that’s Alex.” He murmured, opening the creaky fence to let himself in the back way. He’d gone out with the older kids long enough to know the whole routine of sneaking back in undetected. 

He started to walk to his room, but then his stomach growled. He’d had to skip dinner last night because Mike was angry, and Jolene was too busy with the baby, and no one but Becks knew how to cook, and she was a little too high for the task. 

They weren’t allowed to take food outside of dinners, but nobody would notice if something small went missing. He toed off his shoes, sneaking into the kitchen as quiet as a mouse. Nobody was around. The snores from the living room meant that Mike had fallen asleep, and there was no crying, which meant that the baby was also asleep, and Jolene was taking a breather. It was the perfect time.

He took a granola bar, carefully opening the packet so it made as little noise as possible. He’d get one of the chip bags if he was brave enough, but he really didn’t want to risk it with Mike so close. He had somehow managed to fly under Mike’s radar enough that he hadn’t gotten hit. He knew that was partly because other kids protected him, and that made his heart clench in a way he didn’t know how to handle. He guessed it was nice, to be important to somebody enough to be protected, but he hated the idea of anyone getting hurt because of him, and that happened a lot here. He knew he should be mature and accept the punishments for his mistakes but every time Mike got mad his voice died in his throat, and one of the older kids would take the blame before he could revive it.

All the ghosts were right. He was a horrible person. 

If he were high, he wouldn’t be having these thoughts, he sighed as he bit into the bar, putting the wrapping in his pocket. He was about to sneak into his room when something on the counter caught his eye. Jolene’s bag.

It was cheap, made out of plastic instead of leather, and Klaus knew this because Dad had declared it important enough information to teach him and the others. He stared at it for a second, overrun with curiosity. It wasn’t illegal to look through other people’s stuff, right? It was only bad if he stole something, and he was _really_ curious to see what’d be inside. He’d never seen what was inside ladies’ bags, or men’s for that matter, but men didn’t seem to carry bags around as much as women did. 

There was a lot of baby stuff, toys, pacifiers, stuff that he’d once found strange but had long become accustomed to after weeks of living with a baby. He barely even heard the screams anymore. There were a few makeup stuff, like lipstick, that Klaus would be interested in playing with if he knew he wouldn’t get a slap for it. There was another cheap plastic bag inside, much smaller than the purse. He looked around to make doubly sure that no one was there and opened it. 

It was full of money. There were some notes, a few coins, and a card. Didn't Becks say that she was the one who got the weed? She had to pay someone for it, right? Stealing money to pay for drugs was _definitely_ illegal. He didn’t want to be like the bad guys they had to kill at the bank, but maybe he already was. Jolene had called him and the older kids good for nothing delinquents before. Maybe that meant that they were already bad, so they didn’t have to worry about being good. 

The thought was oddly freeing, and then came the realisation that if he bought the weed himself then he wouldn’t have to share any of it with the older kids. That sounded like heaven. 

Just as he finally convinced himself to take some notes and pocket it, his heart leapt in his throat as the bag suddenly vibrated. Did it have its own warning system? Was someone going to catch him?

It took him a second to realise where the noise was coming from. Jolene’s phone was buzzing, creating a noise that Mike could wake up and hear at any moment. How did he turn it off?

He flipped it open, and saw a random order of numbers on the screen. Panicking, he pressed a button and put it to his ear. 

“uh, hello? Who’s this?”

There was a pause, and Klaus considered hanging up when– _“Four?”_

He flinched, pulling the phone away from his ear and staring at it as if it had grown teeth. That– that almost sounded like–

“Five?” He whispered, scarcely daring to breathe. There was beat, and then came a flurry of words from Five that Four could barely even process.

“Four! Four, oh my god, I can’t believe I found you. Where are you? Tell me the exact address and I'll come and get you out of there. Where are the others? Are they with you? Bring them to you so that I can talk to them. I think there’s a place that I can hide you guys, I'm almost done with my equations so you shouldn’t have to wait for too long–”

“Five.” He hissed, painfully aware of Mike in the other room.

Five continued his barrage of speech, and Four thought that even he wasn't even completely aware of what he was saying, which was impressive considering the fact that he was planning the logistics of where they’d get food while he hid them wherever he wanted to hide them.

“Five!” He whisper yelled, and that shut Five up. He opened his mouth, he was sure that he had something that he wanted to say, but the words died in his throat, and he couldn’t bring himself to pull them out. 

He swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat, his hands trembling. It was starting to hit him. Five was here. Five was _here_ and he was talking to him, and Four could say something that would make him come here and take him away from this place, but the words had thickened up and clogged in his throat at the worst possible time, and it was all he could do to hold back tears. 

It was Five who broke the silence. “...Are– are you okay?” His voice, usually so sure and strong was quiet and almost scared. Was Five in a place like he was? His heart clenched at the thought. 

“I–” he started, but then a hand large and unyielding, wrapped around his arm and pulled him away so fast his arm almost wrenched out of its socket. He could hear Five’s tinny voice saying his number over and over again as he came face to face with Mike. 

“Just what the _fuck,”_ Mike’s smoky breath blew in his face. Four resisted the urge to cough, “do you think you’re doing?”

* * *

He was hiding in the bathroom by the time the older kids came back. It had been hours and he was still sniffling uncontrollably, hands shaking too hard to even put the plaster on himself correctly. He was training to be a soldier, he should know how to take beatings, how to fix himself with what little he had, but Dad hadn't reached that point in their training, yet. He was planning to teach them how to take pain when they were thirteen.

Stuck sat on the toilet doing basically nothing but crying like a baby and staring into space, he barely even noticed when the door opened, Alex appearing.

He blinked. “Klaus, what’re you–” his eyes caught onto the blood on his face, the way his hands shook, and the haphazardly scattered medical supplies from the first aid kit. “Oh.”

He sniffled, hiding his face in his hands. He didn't want to be seen. He didn’t want to be touched or even acknowledged. He just wanted the others back, he wanted that short, precious minute he’d had with Five back. 

Alex gently touched his arm, and he flinched, wincing when he aggravated the aches and pains in his body. Alex didn’t relent, and soon enough he was gently pulling Klaus up to stand, packing up the first aid kit as well. 

He blinked, and suddenly he was in Alex's room. It wasn’t that different from his, though a lot more decorated. Alex had been here for a while, clearly. 

“Okay, it’s not so bad, you just got some bruises and a cut. This’ll hurt, don’t squirm.” He gasped and winced anyway when Alex cleaned the blood off his face, washing a little too hard near his cut. “Don’t whine, it’s not so bad, okay? Head wounds just bleed a lot, but it doesn’t mean that it’s bad.” He stuck a plaster over the cut, and Klaus breathed a sigh of relief that it was over.

“I can’t do much for your bruises, obviously." Alex continued, and Four swayed where he sat, barely comprehending. He was just so tired. He wanted to go to sleep. He wanted Amy to stop trying to get Alex's attention. What, he wasn’t good enough for her anymore? He didn’t blame her. He wanted to get away from himself too.

“You can sleep in my room tonight if you want." Alex said, and Four blinked at him. “Don’t look at me like that, I just know what the first time is like. I have an extra blanket and a pillow that you can sleep on.” He got up, and retrieved said pillow and blanket, draping them on the floor in a truly pathetic set up. Usually Four wouldn’t want to sleep on the floor over his bed, but the idea of being alone choked him. 

He dutifully laid down when Alex gestured, the floor really not helping his bruises, but it felt nice to be laying down at all. There was a long moment of silence, where Alex moved around a little in his room and then finally settled in his bed, laying down with a huff. “Shit sucks, huh?”

He blinked at the phrase, so crude and yet so wholly summarising Four’s life. “Yeah. Shit sucks.” He paused, and swallowed, and then absurdly said the first thing that came to his mind. “Can you tell me a story?”

There was a beat of surprise, and then, “uh. About what?”

“Anything.” He said, and intended to leave it at that until another thought came to mind that slipped out of his mouth almost without his consent. “Me and my siblings used to tell each other stories. It always put me right to sleep.”

There was a long pause where Klaus increasingly grew tense wondering how bad had he messed up, and then came a soft chuckle from the bed. 

“...Yeah, me and my friend used to do something similar. She’d act out stories that she thought were funny to me. It never made me sleep, but it was _hilarious._ ”

He blinked slowly, digesting that information. Amy was outright sobbing now, acknowledging him again only to beg him for– something, Klaus didn’t know what. All he knew was that it made his head hurt. “Was it Becks?” He asked, and Alex shook his head and scoffed a little.

“Nah, I've only known her for a few months. Besides, she’s _way_ too stuck up to ever _act_ , god forbid.”

Klaus wrinkled his nose. “I don’t think she’s stuck up.”

“She wants to be a _librarian._ ”

Klaus didn't actually know what was wrong with that, but he kept quiet anyway. He was too tired for an argument, and Alex had been in the real world longer than Four had, he would know this stuff better than him. 

“Anyway, I was close with her. She took me under her wing when I was new to the system, taught me how to survive it.” There was a pause, and the next time he spoke his voice was slightly softer. “I miss her.”

Amy screamed at this, and an idea occurred as an explanation why she had been acting so upset recently. “Was it Amy?”

There was a beat of silence. “Who?”

“Amy. Uh, short brown hair, nose piercing, black top?” He listed off her physical appearance, and smiled when it _finally, finally_ got her to shut up. She sat next to him, watching him just as intensely as the other ghosts had watched him when he had talked to Amy that first night. 

There was shuffling behind him, and he turned over to look at Alex, who was staring at him with wide eyes. “What the _fuck_ did you just say?” 

He blinked, confused at his reaction. “She’s your friend, right? She seems to think so.”

“Alex,” Amy choked out. “Alex, it’s me, it’s me, please, Alex–” but Alex couldn't see her. He stared at Four like he was– like he was scared of him or something. 

“What the hell are you talking about?” He hissed. “Amy isn’t– she aged out of the system a while ago. There’s no way she could have met you.”

“She can, because she died.” If Klaus thought his first look was bad, it was nothing compared to the way he looked at him now. Like he was a _monster._

“You can’t– did the others put you up to this!? Amy didn’t die, there’s no way–”

“She _did._ ” He insisted, sitting up because he was _tired,_ and he just wanted Alex to believe him so Amy would stop screaming and he could get some sleep. “She overdosed, I don’t know when, but she missed you as well! She got _really_ upset when you said–”

“Shut up!” Alex, honest to god screamed, and Four cowered, terrified of facing this sort of anger so soon after his first beating. “Get out! Just get the fuck out!” He pointed at the door and Klaus didn’t need to be told twice. He scrambled out of the room, and rushed to his, diving under the covers as if it would protect him from anything.

He lay there, trembling, as the muffled sound of sobs started up from the other room. Amy was upset too, wailing at the wall as if she couldn’t just walk through and join Alex in his misery party. 

Klaus shook, desperately trying to calm his thrumming heart. He couldn’t do this, he’d thought that he’d be able to cope but he just _couldn’t_. Alex hated him now, he’d been put on Mike’s radar, and he knew that Five and Six were out there potentially getting _hurt_ even worse than him. He couldn’t just stay here and suffer beating after beating and spending his remaining hours high while the others could be in danger. 

He needed to run away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh oh
> 
> next chapter: allison does some thinking.
> 
> content warnings: underage drug abuse, physical abuse, manipulation, emotional abuse, stealing, misrepresentation of mental disorders

**Author's Note:**

> I miiiiight write a sequel about what homes they end up in and if they get separated or end up in bad homes oh no–


End file.
